


The Second Dawn War

by IGOM



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Headcanon about Felix/Glenn/Ingrid mentioned, I basically disagreed with the Claude/Byleth ending so I wrote this, Implied/Referenced Character Death, No Beta sorry Glenn, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Post-Golden Deer Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Semi graphic description of death of a character, So spoilers obvs, There will be some violence near the end, claude is an idiot in love, more tags added as I think about them, very minor canon divergence though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:13:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 40,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26800447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IGOM/pseuds/IGOM
Summary: Byleth the Fell Star's reign as the first Queen of All Fodlan would have been cut short by one last Argathan invasion if it hadn't been for her husband King Khalid and his wyvern masters coming to the defense of their new ally. But in the aftermath of the Battle for Derdriu, new troubles come to plague the new Almyran king, and soon unrest and civil war breaks out in the eastern kingdom.Haunted by their mistakes during the Derdriu battle and struggling for control over the goddess she shares a body with, Byleth refuses to involve Fodlan's army until a concerning report about a turn in the civil war threatens the peace they worked so hard to establish.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Lysithea von Ordelia, Holst Goneril/OC, Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	1. Morning in Palace Riegan

There was a decided crispness in the air that morning. Byleth awoke in the Riegan Palace, head pounding from queer disconnected dreams; the progenitor god's consciousness was taking over this body little by little. Soon, she would be no more and in her body would only be Sothis. But, there was nothing to be done except to carve the heart of the goddess out of her breast; impossible to do any longer. There was a dressing gown of heavy brocade, and she pulled it over her shoulders. Derdriu spread out below the windows, a winding town of canals and merchant shops, the harbor bustling as ever with trade; there were less Almyran banners among the ships than Byleth would have liked to see.

  
Breakfast waited with her morning letters. Her palate had shifted in the last few years, and she found herself less inclined to cooked foods as the progenitor god crept, and so this morning she found a peach cut into perfect slices, milk mixed with honey, and a crust of yesterday's bread to sop. Hot water bubbled on the fire, and she fixed a pot of tea in an earthy terra cotta teapot; there were finer ones there painted with gold leaf that had been gifts from this noble and that, but this was her favorite.

  
The first letter was from Gautier; Sylvain was full of praises for his newest child, the first daughter for the Margrave. "Dorothea is well, and sends her affection. Little Ingrid is the most precious creature, and already shows promise as the best of knights." Byleth smiled; it had taken some doing for the diva to entertain marriage with the man, but they were well suited for one another. Further on the letter, she found his true purpose in writing: Duke Fraldarius had taken ill, and perhaps she had been in contact with Felix? She would reply straightaway with an answer that she knew not where the wayward swordmaster had flittered to, only that it was more than likely in some corner of the world where war flared up.

  
The second letter was from Rodrigue himself, but there was no mention of his illness, only a report of the doings of that corner of the queendom. Meticulous, that man. Byleth shook her head at it; even after all this time, he still did showed a marked reluctance to trust the governance of the former holy kingdom to a Duscur. But she had to admit, at least his report of the situation there closely matched that of Governor Molinaro, and it comforted her that Faerghus was the least troublesome of the territories of Fodlan.

  
The last letter of importance was from Bernadetta, outlining the troubles of Brigid and Dagda, and how perhaps Fodlan could spare some soldiers to assist their ally of Brigid in that dispute. Strange that Petra had not written herself to request aid, but perhaps it was a matter of pride. The Bear of Varley was close with the Brigid queen, but doubtful she herself had traveled to the site of conflict. Lorenz could perhaps be persuaded to go with a small company to report; he was good at that sort of thing.

  
The meal nearly finished, there was a knock, and at a wave of her hand, the door opened to reveal Judith, looking unusually strained. "Your Majesty, not to be impolite, but we need privacy." A nod, and the attendants slipped away. Lady Daphnel sat down, declining tea. "I've just had a message, and needed to tell you straightaway. We've a report that Nader was killed in battle, and the capital of Almyra has fallen."

"In the civil war?" She wanted to ask about the king but held her tongue. If he had died that would have eclipsed the death of Nader the Undefeated. Judith nodded. "Was it a decisive battle?"

A sigh. "We know very little. Claude-his Majesty-has not been reported dead yet, but his army has to be in tatters after the city fell. I doubt even he could come up with a clever enough scheme to take it back."

"Khalid."

Judith shook her head. "Whatever he styles himself these days, that boy is in trouble. I feel the need to be frank; now is the time to support our allies in the east. If the rebels are allowed to supplant the King in Almyra, we'll have a dangerous enemy on our flank again, and you know Lord Goneril never really recovered from the battle with Nemesis."

"No."

"But-"

"He doesn't want our help, Judith." An irrational anger rose, more than necessary for the situation; were these feelings Byleth or Sothis? Impossible to know.

Judith drummed her fingers on the table, looking very severe. "You can't blame yourself for what happened forever."

"I'm tired, please leave." Her head started to pound again. Judith made a noise of protest, but she left following a dismissive wave of Byleth's hand. An apothecary was summoned with a few short words, and she stood to walk to her desk; letters needed responses, and quickly.

Before that, though; Byleth reached under the main drawer to unlock the concealed drawer. It was a clever design, made to Khalid's exacting specifications when he was Duke Riegan. A stack of letters lay in that drawer, all unmarked by any indicator of their author from the outside. She took the top one and opened it. "Byleth, my dearest," it began. "The siege goes well. If all works out as devised, we should have provisions enough for the winter until we can begin our smuggling again. Perhaps they think they've plugged all the holes out of the city, but I've spent more time as a mouse than anyone here. We will winter just fine, and resume sitting quite comfortably within the city until the spring. I only risk sending one last mouse out to deliver you this." Such a thing to write; a week later Judith's spies would report rumors that two days prior to the date on the letter, the king had taken an arrow in his shoulder during a review of the defenses. "I could not imagine keeping Ignatz here to winter; the man needs landscape to paint to be truly happy, and he makes a fine smuggler of letters as they would get overlooked among his sketching paper. He gave me a drawing of his, of you; did you ask him to draw a picture of you, or did he draw it to surprise the both of us? Both scenarios are equally likely, and I can't decide which is more charming. It is a good likeness, and I'll keep it close to my heart in the coming months.

"Nader sends his regards, and wishes you well. At the end of this siege he desires to assist you with whatever petty uprising may be troubling you; there were whispers of an army in Dagda rattling spears at Brigid, and perhaps the good Queen Petra would welcome a flight of wyverns to soothe the tensions. But enough about war. Have you read any good books lately? I assume Flayn still smuggles some out of the piles marked for destruction by her dear "brother." Send them on if you find any of particular interest, and we can rally against Lorenz the next time I find myself in Derdriu. I found a book on the effects of magic on poisons recently, and while I'm lost on the particulars of spellcraft, it has given me ideas for delaying the effects of incapacitants. When we meet again, you should explain to me the finer points that have escaped me.

"Do not attempt a reply until spring, please. Think long on what you wish to say in it, and I will await your reply when the trees begin to bloom again. 

"Your most attentive servant, Khalid."  


Byleth looked out the window once again toward the harbor, where the pennants snapped to attention in the wind, all the flags and colors in sharp contrast against the soft blues and greys of the sky; there really were far too little Almyran ships at the harbor, and soon she feared it would be none. This fragile peace fluttered like a baby bird, ungainly and still weak, and she fretted about the gale that threatened to kill it before it could truly fly. And yet, she stayed her hand. It was because of her that Khalid was in this position, but her interference would do nothing.

An attendant announced the apothecary's arrival, and she put the letter away with the rest and shut the drawer. Her eyes were damp, and she wiped it away with a thumb quickly before calling for the doctor's entrance.


	2. The Battle of Derdriu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback, part one.

Four years prior, it had been Derdriu in flames. The Fodlan was badly outnumbered, pushed back to near the harbor to just in front of Riegan palace. The cavalry decimated, the magic corps spent, all the healers dead save Marianne and Dorothea, the latter wearing a shredded silk evening gown; when the invasion started, she had been performing at a small gathering of nobles at Manor Edmund in the hopes of gaining some patronage for the Mittelfrank Opera. "I'm a diva, not a field medic," she muttered to Byleth between casts, her eyes focused on Sylvain at the head of the remnants of the cavalry line. "Reckless as ever when it comes to a fight. Doesn't he know not to do that when he doesn't have Ingrid and Felix to rescue him?" A grunt, and the diva was temporarily suspended in midair by some unseen force; down the field, near where the Gautier commander ran a swathe through the enemy lines, a giant meteor materialized and dropped, crushing several unsuspecting enemy infantry.

"I doubt even that would save us today." Where had this army come from, sneaking up under their noses like this? The underground city destroyed, the Empire brought to heel under Aegir and Varley, and yet still they had been able to march all the way up to the palace as if her forces were nothing more than paper. Damn them. They were running out of time.

"The boy didn't leave you a book of secret schemes or list of traps around the capital by any chance?" Byleth shook her head at Judith's suggestion, even as they cut down wave after wave of enemies as they approached the palace. A gift from Duke Riegan to the Queen of Fodlan; it was really his excuse to vanish from the place to pursue his own path. But she would defend it to the last now that it was hers, even if her ownership appeared in this moment to be painfully short. The townspeople sheltered there, and she would be damned if she would let harm come to them before she breathed her last.

Then there was a shout from the parapet. "To the east!" Byleth looked, blinked, and looked again. There was something approaching, a cloud of black dots on the east horizon. Fast approaching, too, and soon she understood; wyvern lords, hundreds of them. Enough to blot out the sun, but the shadow did not make her shiver; as they approached, she saw the albino wyvern at the head of the column and recognized the regalia of the Almyran king. The invading army turned to meet this new threat, and a few arrows were let loose only to fall, ineffectual, into the water. In response, the wyvern riders let loose with their own barrage as they swept over the field. It rained steel; Byleth and the others took swift cover as best they could by the palace. Sylvain and Lorenz noticed and began to press the enemy from the west, flanking as their enemies attempted to flee the Amyran onslaught.

"Did you know about this?" Judith said as they watched, still pinned to their location, and Byleth could only shake her head. None of their messages or scouts had so much as hinted at assistance from the east. This was a master feat of deception and strategy even for the former Duke Claude von Riegan, now called King Khalid the Clever. Soon enough, the last remnants of the underground people and the Adrestian rebels were no more, crushed betwixt the Fodlan cavalry and the Almyran reinforcements.

After the clamor of battle, the city seemed deathly quiet, the only sounds the beating of wings and a few scattered groans of the injured not yet carried from the field. Byleth stepped forward as the snow white wyvern began its descent, pink wings showing every vein, but unscathed. Khalid launched himself from his seat before her feet touched earth, careful to avoid the rubble of the Aquatic capital, and he stood there with a mocking half smile. A bow in her direction. "Your Majesty, I do hope our presence is welcome in your fine city."

She cleared her throat, and copied his bow. "Your Majesty, you could have perhaps timed your coming a bit better. Perhaps by half a day earlier would have sufficed."

A snort, and then he laughed. "Teach, you've learned to make jokes. I never would have suspected that." The distance was closed by the both of them, and they shook hands before coming closer for an embrace. "My friend, it's been too long. This calls for a feast so grand it will be written about in history books for the next thousand years!" A cry went up in the crowd.

* * *

As promised, the Almyrans had brought food enough for the entire town, and the revelry expanded to every corner of Derdriu. They settled in the main hall with the other officers on silk cushions; no one wished to sit on hard wood chairs after the fight. Sylvain was in particular expansive in his lounging; near the end a spear grazed his thigh. Dorothea fussed over him, hovering and frequently placed her hand on his bandage to check for signs of infection. "You idiot," she hissed. "You always have to go out of your way to be stupidly noble."  


He laughed. "It's only a scratch. If you're so worried, you could always use some magic to heal it?"

"Like I would waste my magic on a scratch, if that's what you think of it. But one of these days you're going to get yourself killed. You're worse than Caspar was."

"Why, Dorothea, you're never this worried about anyone. Does this mean you'll finally agree to be my wife?"

A groan. "Sylvain, you're impossible." But then she took a plate of fruit from a passing servant and began to feed him.

"That wasn't a no, I noticed," Khalid whispered in Byleth's ear. They were seated a bit apart from the rest, and yet he still said it softly enough to avoid being overheard. "How long has that been going on?"

She leaned in, conspiratorial in her air to match his. "A year. He's followed her from Enbarr to Derdriu and back again at least twice. Marianne is assisting her with securing patronage for Mittelfrank."

He shook his head and glanced at Marianne, who was holding court with some of the nobility and a handful of the wealthier merchants. "First Hilda's little jewelry business and now the opera? The future Margravine Edmund is shaping up to be quite a patroness of the arts. Perhaps soon Derdriu will rival Enbarr for culture under your rule."

"Do you see our rulers here, Judith, speaking to each other in whispers?" Nader came up to them with Lady Daphel behind, smirking at them in turns. "Even during a party Khalid can't stop working."

"Nor our queen, it seems." They had brought a small cask of liquor with them as well as another platter of food. "And just what could the two of you have to speak of so secretively among your allies?"

"Only an argument over who should give the first toast of the evening. The queen and I are unfortunately at odds in the matter." Khalid shook his head, the perfect picture of regret. "How embarrassing that your leaders can't even make a simple decision such as this."

Nader stood, beating a spoon against his flagon. "Everyone, everyone! Our beloved King Khalid has a few words he would like to share with you all now, before we get too drunk." Laughter from the crowd; more honest and hearty from the Almyrans while the Fodlans tittered nervously behind their hands.

The king groaned as he stood, and Khalid addressed the crowd then with a clearing of his throat. "My friends, a toast. To the dead as they died good deaths, and deserve our respect." The company drank deeply, a hush falling as they considered their comrades. "And now, to the living, may we never forget those who are gone, and we will continue on with our work so their deaths will have meaning." A cheer, and glasses emptied across the room, and he sat back down, groaning, as the chattering of the crowd resumed. "Nader, do you know how much that hurt to stand? The flight from Almyra was exhausting."

"You're still too green in your saddle, boy."

Judith clicked her tongue. "Speaking of that; a little warning would have been appreciated, perhaps we could have held off the Argathan invasion with a bit more fortitude if we had known of reinforcements."

He shrugged, impervious to the jabs of Judith's sharp questioning. "There was no time, and we couldn't risk those who slither in the dark being tipped off. The element of surprise is worth a thousand soldiers."

"Five thousand if you're referring to Fodlans." Nader gave Judith a cheeky grin in response to her glare. "Present company excluded, of course." 

The evening passed in this thread for some time until they were all flush with drinking and sleepy from the meal. Some began to totter off to bed, alone or in pairs. Marianne was gone early as was Lorenz, while Sylvain and Dorothea nodded off together in the great hall, her dark hair spilling over his chest as they lay together.

Byleth left near the end of the night as she felt herself nod off while an Almyran captain regaled them with the tale of his wyvern taming, a rite of passage among the nobility there. She felt a bit numb; she drank rarely these days, but Nader insisting on keeping her glass filled.

The palace seemed quieter than usual, or perhaps it was simply the stillness after battle still lingering over the capital. Her rooms were cold, the hearth nothing but ashes; who knew how many of the attendants still lived or how many had fled the terror of the onslaught. No matter; she could build her own fire well enough, and soon it blazed with a pleasant enough crackling.

Suddenly, it was all too much, and she just caught herself and sank into a chair by the fire. Exhaustion washed over her, and she could only find the energy to watch the flickering flames. They had nearly lost Derdriu, and it was only by some miracle that the Almyrans had arrived when they had; any later and Khalid would have found Riegan Palace in the same state as the rest of the city. They would need to bolster their forces immediately to avoid this from fracturing Fodlan to splinters once again. Perhaps if Sylvain married and took over Gautier, it would shore up her support in the Faerghus region.

There was a knocking from one of the walls, and she tensed, but as the panel slid open, it was only him. "I didn't know there was a passage there."

He laughed. "My grandfather showed me when I first came to Fodlan. I don't know all the secrets of the palace, just most of them." He came to the hearth and warmed his hands. "I thought I would never get away from Nader. I really thought he was going to do me in this time. The man does love to drink." He glanced at her. "You look as tired as I feel."

"We held the outside wall for three days before it broke. I don't think I've slept more than six hours since they first arrived."

"I can imagine. We flew two days straight and-never mind that now." He pulled her up to her feet and into his embrace. This was not the theater of the battlefield, where they had put on a face of camaraderie between allied royalty against a common foe. They were not the King Khalid the Clever and Queen Byleth the Fell Star; they were laid bare in this moment as two lovers seeking one another's comfort.

"My dearest. Tomorrow is more work, and the tomorrows after that. But tonight-"

"Yes, Khalid." She touched his forehead and traced; already his face had begun to line with age and worries of he who wears the crown. When had his hair gotten so long and his beard so full?

He sighed. "How long I've waited to hear you call me that. I should have told you years ago my real name, before I had to leave for Almyra."

"That first letter was a surprise." A laugh, then he yawned, and she smiled at his sheepish face. "Sleep first. The rest after."

He kissed her, quick and tender. "I suppose this will have to suffice for the moment, so long as I can sleep beside you."

  
"Yes."


	3. A Saint Appears

With her head clear, Byleth dressed and again set herself to replying to her letters. Duke Fraldarius first; he commanded a certain respect and she was careful not to offend his noble sensibilities. A quick letter of gratitude for his due care and recommendations for the future of the Faerghus region was simple enough to write, and she sealed it with wax, the Crest of Flames impressed into the rapidly congealing liquid. Next, Sylvain. She wrote him a long letter full of congratulations for the child; she would need to send a present as well, perhaps some bright ribbons not unlike the late Galatea preferred to wear, and something of value for the child's future. She addressed the matter of Felix, and expressed her regret that he had not been heard from since the funeral except as a rumor of a wandering swordmaster with no interest in being paid for his work and only wanted a good fight. A man looking for somewhere to die; that part she kept to herself.

She leaned back, considering. Sylvain and Felix had parted unkindly at Ingrid's funeral, so Rodrigue's illness must be serious of Sylvain hoped to heal the breach between them. Byleth would write a letter to Dedue to find the truth, if he knew anything of it. Yes, that would be the best course of action. She ended the letter suggesting he write to Petra; perhaps Felix traveled south in hopes that the Dagda saber rattling turned into conflict. If he had gotten involved with the Almyran war, she would have known.

Varley last; she set it in the hidden drawer for now. This needed more preparation. She asked if the Gloucester son was still in the palace, and when the attendant answered in the positive, so Byleth went in search of Lorenz; a simple enough matter, he was still at tea in his apartment. "Your Majesty, always a pleasure. Allow me to make you the finest cup of tea in the capital."

"Thank you, sir." More water was set to heat, and she took a seat at his table. They talked in niceties for a time, unimportant things that Lorenz valued, and she wished to ensure his cooperation so she indulged his overblown noble sentiments. When the water was hot enough and the tea steeping, she got to the point. "I've a task for you."

"Anything for my liege. It's a noble's duty to serve their lord."

"There are reports of an uprising in Dagda, and it may be directed at Brigid. I need you to take a small retinue there and ascertain if Queen Petra requires our aid."

He hemmed a bit as he poured. "A small retinue, just in case?"

"Yes." The tea was a bit much, but she drank despite her protesting body. This had been one of her favorites for a long time, but she had lost the taste for it. "I'll send letters to Aegir and Gaspard to prepare as well, and if Brigid wishes for aid, they will be prepared to march."

"Understood. I am yours to command." If he was upset at the choice of support, he didn't show it; Gaspard in particular chafed the Gloucester's sensibilities, but Ashe was a reliable man in a fight for all his earnestness. This task done, she left him to the rest of his day.

Next, she directed letters to be sent to Gaspard and Aegir as promised, written by others and she would review and fix her seal to. To Varley's letter she would craft a reply tonight; now she was out of her rooms, there were those who wanted her attention, pulling her gaze this way and that. Decisions to make from all corners of Fodlan, some petty, some more serious in nature. The halls were filled daily with petitioners for the queen's attention, and as much as it drained her, she refused to make her Fodlan a place of stiff hierarchy; after all, the daughter of a battered mercenary and a nun hardly had any rights to claim superiority over the masses. It was simply fate that brought her to this place and to this throne. So she walked among them, listening to the sorrows and complaints of her people, dispensing wisdom and blessings in equal measure, kissing foreheads in benediction in near the same breath she settled all manner of quarrels. Tomorrow she would hear more; tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

The sea reflected the sky, all pinks and purples as the sun set over Derdriu. The wide windows of the palace allowed for a full view of it; Byleth could never tire of it. Supper awaited her in her rooms, and she understood herself to be hungry for the first time that day. As the goddess crept, the needs of her body slipped away, and she felt those needs less and less. It was only with effort she remembered that she was still human and mortal. She would have to focus on that in the coming years, before it slipped away completely.

There was a commotion at the door of her rooms; an attendant argued what appeared to be a girl, not yet fourteen if appearances could be believed, but Byleth knew her face. "And I insist on seeing the professor! I won't be denied. I can stand here all night!"

"Flayn, what are you doing here?" She made a gesture, and the attendants relaxed. The door opened, and Byleth took Flayn by the arm as they went inside.

She stamped her foot. "My brother is fool, that is what. I cannot stand living in Garreg Mach another moment! I want to live, not merely exist." It was an old argument, older than the monastery itself; Seteth would never be brought to see Flayn's perspective on this point. She stopped in her ranting to sniff the air. "Is that herring? Oh, I am famished. Might we share a meal?"

Byleth opened the door again. "Fetch another fish for supper."

"Now, your Majesty?"

"Yes, now. What a silly question. It's supper time, is it not?" And she shut the door again before any other inane comments could be said. The irritation still burned raw, even as she felt a blush of shame at Flayn's stare. "Please, sit."

"Have I come at a bad time? I just could not stand Father's overbearing nature a moment later. He refused to let me into town to see Annette, and I just-" In privacy, she dropped the act, and spoke of Seteth's true nature as her parent. "Does he not see that I am more than capable of taking care of myself? I wish to travel and see the world with my own eyes."

"It's nothing, Flayn." The fish was brought, and they ate together in several moments of silence; fish was still something she could bring herself to eat, but only plainly dressed as this. A thought came, errant and strange; clearly the thought of a goddess and not a mortal. But still, Byleth voiced it. "So you wish to see the world? How would you feel about Almyra first?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one's kind of short. 
> 
> I love writing Flayn more than I thought I would.


	4. Letters and Wyverns

He had never expected the war to go this far. They had been pushed back near the border and now the tatters of the royal army sought refuge in Nader's fortress to plan their next move. At least they had been able to bring his body back to his family to be buried with the proper honors. Even being pushed back further than he liked, Khalid felt as though he was on the wrong side of the Throat; a petty fancy, that.

For now, they would winter comfortably here in the mountains; while it was folly to endure the siege at the capital all winter, for the rebel army to harry them here and attempt siege in the mountains during winter would be suicide. When the spring thaws came, they would have enough replacement wyverns and soldiers healed enough to mount a serious response to the taking of the city. In the meantime, he would find a way to weaken their efforts to rebuild the capital walls until the snows set in and travel was impossible. It would be a simple thing to work out a plan for the city; no one knew the city better than he after his childhood spent hiding in every cranny available in that sprawling place.

Kadija approached, exhausted and grief carving deep lines into her forehead. She was too young to take up her father's place properly, but so she had with as much as fortitude as could be expected. She acted and looked like her father, but perhaps with a bit more polish than Nader had been able to muster. "King Khalid."

"My lady. Who do I owe honor to be graced with your presence this morning?"

She sighed. "Stop with your Fodlan high speech, it's too early for that. There's a girl at the gate demanding to speak to Claude von Riegan."

He paused in his step; very little could surprise him these days, but this did greatly. "A girl? Describe her."  
A shrug. "She's from Fodlan, a tiny pale thing with green hair. What's queer is she talks like she's much older, and how could a girl of thirteen have made such a trip on her own?"

A laugh took him, and Kadija looked at him in wonder. "As with many things in Fodlan, that girl's appearance is most deceiving." He began to walk quickly to the courtyard. "Tell them to open the gate and let her in." If Flayn was here, perhaps she had a long awaited letter; it took all he had not to run.

She waited for him under an awning to get away from the snow drifting down in the lazy way it was wont to do. Unchanged; how many years had it been since they first met? Nearly ten, and yet she still looked a child. How many decades would she remain so? Would his dear Byleth also be forever untouched by time's flow even after his bones were laid to rest? The blood of the progenitor god could perform miracles, but the cost made the rewards turn to ash in his mouth. "Flayn. Or would you rather-"

"Not another word, Claude! Stop that this instant!" He laughed; it had not been long after the Dawn War he had ferreted out her true nature, and it never failed to rile her. None of the Fodlan history books mentioned the hot temper of Saint Cethleann, that was certain. But it was because of that he didn't mind her use of his Fodlan name; if anyone understood the need for an alias, it was a woman who was forever a child. "What is it with you and Byleth? Both of you are the most difficult to speak to anymore."

So she had come from Derdriu. "We are royalty, after all. And what brings you to this side of the Throat? I'm not going to find Seteth knocking down my walls tomorrow, am I?"

She tsked. "I have nothing to say about my brother. He's still at the monastery for all I know, and he can stay there for another thousand years if he wishes."

He didn't doubt Seteth did wish it with all his heart. "So what brings you to Almyra? Sightseeing isn't much at the moment."  
"I have a letter for you." He waited for it to be revealed, but instead she continued to look up at him. "You're injured." Before he could protest, there was a whisper, an extranormal sensation, and the pain he had almost forgotten about eased in his shoulder. "Now. I want to see her."

"That's your price for my letter?" She nodded, her eyes glowing bright as emeralds. It made him ache, how much those eyes looked like the queen's. He offered his arm, and together they made their way through the fortress to the top where the tethers were. In the center, there she was; his darling Alemarmar, gleaming whiter than the snow that drifted down. She trilled at the sight of him, and he could feel Flayn's quivering with anticipation. "Letter?" It was handed over, and he clicked his tongue at the wyvern. "Behave yourself, Alemar," he said in his language, and the saint walked toward the creature, hands outstretched. He found a seat under scant cover; it would be enough to protect the letter from the snow. Seal cracked, he unfolded the pages and began to read, safely away from the prying eyes of the others.

It began pleasantly. "Khalid, my love," she wrote, her handwriting precise and pretty; he saw traces of her father's hand there. "I am as surprised as you to learn Ignatz had taken my likeness; perhaps he had done it on the road from memory. If so, I hope he remembered me less favorably than I truly am, so that you are not disappointed next time we meet. I wish he had thought to take yours as well, but perhaps you were not feeling up to such activity. I understand you were perhaps feeling less well than you claimed in your last letter?" Damn, Judith had found out about his shoulder after all, and he had wasted all that time concealing it from the painter for nothing. 

The second paragraph, however, took a sharp turn. "You fool. Don't you know that your missteps threaten us all? How could you have been so careless that you have lost Nader?" He felt a thick shame tighten around his throat; Nader's death had been the final blow that forced them to retreat from Najafa, and now he all his hopes were pinned on a winter in the mountains would providing ample time to craft a scheme to take back his throne. "How difficult is it to hold one city when you are the king? We will lose everything we've worked for, you simple child! How stubborn must you be to refuse to ask for my help?"

Khalid sighed; he and Byleth both knew it impossible for Fodlan to come to the aid of the Almyran king. It was their closeness that caused this mess to begin, and only he could correct it. But she was right on one point; if he could not end this war in his favor, the Almyra that would rise could continue to harry the Fodlan eastern flank. Governor Holst had taken a grievous injury against Nemesis that never really healed even with the best magic, and it was doubtful he could hold Fodlan's Locket against such an army.

He finished the rest of the letter quickly; another child for Gautier, and had he seen or heard of Felix lately? The wayward swordsman had been gossiped of from time to time within the Almyran borders, but he was unsure just when the last time he had heard anything of the sort. The signature gave him reason to forgive the harsh tone of her letter. "Yours forever, Byleth."

He looked up; Flayn still caressed Alemarmar's flank, but she watched him. How long had she watched him, and why had he not noticed?

"You seemed so sad reading that letter."

Khalid pulled on his favorite smile as he tucked the letter away. "I don't think she's ever called me a fool before, but it is well deserved."  
Flayn considered him a long moment before speaking, her expression unusual enough to make the hairs on his nape rise. "The goddess creeps, and the professor retreats. The process hastens, and soon..." Even she could not finish the thought.

Again, the tightness in his throat. Soon, his beloved Byleth would be no more. Perhaps he had been wrong; her body would remain, but she herself, her soul, would disappear long before his. Would Sothis love him the way Byleth had? Impossible, she was a goddess, and he nothing but dust. "How well do you know Sothis?"

She seemed exasperated, causing his smile to become a bit more real; they were alone so she shouldn't have been surprised he would ask such a cheeky question. "She was long gone before I was born as you well know, and my brother only knew her briefly." A pause. "I looked in the library as you asked, but I could not find any texts that could help reverse the process. Perhaps it is in Rhea's personal collection, or does not exist at all."

Reckless Saint Seiros. He wondered how she had done it in secret, placing the heart of the goddess in an infant. Byleth bore no marks from it, at least not until that dramatic change to her hair and eyes in the Sealed Forest. "It had always been unlikely we would find anything." But enough of that. "How long will you stay with us?"

"As long as I please," she said with a defiant toss of her hair. "Brother can't stop me from living my life forever."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like. Kadija is a good host. There's a stream near here with fish as fat as any in Garreg Mach."

"If you cook, I will catch. We will have a delightful feast!" It truly did not take much to please a saint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The man himself makes an appearance.
> 
> Alemarmar's name is based on the Arabic for alabaster. And yes, someone does call her Marmar as a pet name.


	5. In Which Nader Give Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback, part two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content: there is a semi-graphic description of how Ingrid died in the conversation with Dorothea, so scroll past that part if you don't want to read it.
> 
> Also, there's some naughty bits at the end.

Despite all of Khalid's care, they had been found out almost immediately. The first morning following the Battle of Derdriu he and Byleth breakfasted, enjoying a rare moment of laziness. Khalid would have preferred to eat in bed, but prudence won over desire in this instance, so they dressed and poured each other tea in the airy sitting room. They sat close, and frequently Byleth reached out to touch his hair, his face, anything that struck her in that moment; he responded by taking her hand to kiss. They had already been awake for a while, making love and talking in turns until the sun rose and they felt compelled to search for something to eat, as the household was still in disarray. Understandable, and he didn't mind; Khalid was skilled in pilferage.

Naturally, it was Nader who burst into the room. "Your Majesty-" and he stopped. "Oh. I was coming to tell you that the king is missing, but I see he's been found."

Had they been quick enough to untangle their hands? Doubtful. At least it was only Nader. "What is it? I woke up early, that's all. We have a lot to do, so Teach and I were just discussing the plan."

"Right." The general sat down and glanced over their table; Khalid would prefer if he would stop smirking like that. "No meat? Not even a sausage?"

"We ate it all." He poured tea. "Have a cup with us." Khalid outlined the work; the wyvern lords would work to move the larger pieces of rubble out of the city, and the Fodlan infantry would tend to the citizens' needs and take stock of the repairs. "If all goes well, we should have the city rebuilt before the end of the Verdant Moon. Or well enough, anyway."

"That's near six weeks away." Khalid shrugged, and Nader frowned. "As your Majesty commands. I'll let the captains know."

It was difficult work to lash ropes to the heavy stones so they could be lifted by the wyverns. It was there as they worked side by side to tie the ropes fast that Nader spoke in low tones. "I like the queen, you know that. But take care how you present yourself in regards to her with the others, boy."

"Even now, you call me a boy." The sun began to beat down, and he felt sweat beading as they continued to work.

"Don't change the subject. I know what I saw, and I'm only warning you. We both know most Almyrans still distrust the Fodlanders, and it would not look well for you to look too comfortable with their queen. Not yet, anyway. They were eager enough to come when it was a good fight, but nobles are fickle things, as you well know." Nader laughed. "She did give them one hell of a fight, I'll give her that."

They worked, busy with the ropes to ensure that the rubble would not slip from the fastenings and fall on the city again. A hot day, and even though they wore light clothes, it was still too much and soon the wyvern masters had all divested themselves of their shirts as the sun hit the zenith. That was how Dorothea found them when she brought the midday meal from the palace, and her eyelashes fluttered at the sight of so many men stripped to the waist. "Oh, my, your Majesty. Looks like I hadn't picked the short straw in deliveries after all."

"You volunteered for kitchen duty?" It felt good to sit, and he found a shaded spot to rest. Water first; he knew from his childhood to take small sips when overheated.

"No, Sylvain insisted on making himself useful. So he's directing the kitchen activities, and I'm keeping an eye on him to make sure he doesn't try to overexert himself." He thought he saw a blush on her cheeks.

"Uh huh. And are you ever going to agree to marry him, or is this a game for you?" Sylvain was not the most talented of cooks, but he did all right. All they could ask for was simple fare until the city was little less ravaged, so it didn't matter much if Sylvain lacked the finesse of Dedue in the kitchen.

She brushed her hair off her shoulder. "Probably the next time he asks. I wanted to make sure he was serious about it." A hesitation, and she sat down beside him. "Ingrid changed him, you know. Well, Ingrid and Felix, really."

"I know." That loss had been the hardest for them all; they all had been helpless to do anything else but watch as Ingrid fell, screaming the whole way down. Her pegasus streamed blood, and the crunching of bones and flesh could be heard across the whole of the field when they hit earth. Sylvain had been closest and first to reach her body; it was then that Gautier showed his best qualities by defending the spot alone in a sea of enemies. 

Khalid himself had not been able to attend the funeral when Ingrid was allowed to lay to rest beside Glenn Fraldarius, but he had heard the details from others. A fistfight at her gravesite between her oldest friends, and then Felix vanished by way of a note renouncing the Fraldarius title and lands. He'd heard it from Byleth later in a letter; Felix openly accused Sylvain of failing to save Ingrid, and the Gautier heir had lost his temper at the remark. "And you're all right with being Margravine Gautier?"

Her lips twitched. "I suppose it wouldn't be all that bad. The opera will survive without me, now that I've secured Marianne's support. Ferdie has pledged a fair amount, as well, so once he has fully settled the area Byleth has given him to govern, the opera will be more than set for patronage."

"You don't have any regrets?" She shook her head, and he laughed, more self-mocking than anything. "I wonder how that would feel."  
Dorothea clicked her tongue, and stood. "You were always an odd one, Claude, and now that you are Khalid, you've grown even more strange." And with that, she left him to the rest of his meal and his thoughts. He didn't much care who Sylvain married, really, just that he was settled in the north as Margrave. His father was intransigent on certain points, and Byleth needed a strong ally in the north Faerghus region. Maybe Nader was right, and he should take care to keep his meddling in Fodlan politics to a minimum and let the queen handle her affairs.

That night Khalid took care to avoid spending too much time at Byleth's side and instead challenged Sylvain to a game. They were joined by Lorenz and Marianne, who only played at Gloucester's insistence. It went as he expected; Lorenz never had much thought beyond what he learned from strategy text books, and Marianne's strategy was innovative in the way that a beginner would be. Sylvain was the real opponent and while he was clever, he was just as reckless in his playing as he was in fighting, always dashing headlong and blind to some obvious dangers. It was not an easy win, but Khalid won all the same. "Damn, I thought I had you this time." Sylvain was gracious in defeat.

"Almost." He turned to speak to Marianne to praise her skills, but she had already disappeared, most likely to the stables. Lorenz was becoming rapidly attached to her, and he could see his attentions taxed her retiring nature. But soon enough he would return to Gloucester and she to Edmund and that would be that. "A different game, perhaps? I'm sure we could find something in the cupboards."

"Nah, one loss is enough for me for the night. I should probably rest. Good night, your Majesty." He looked at Lorenz. "Would you mind giving me a hand up? I can walk on my own."

Khalid watched the scene, now alone in his corner of the great hall. Byleth talked to a varied group; more listened than talked, he was sure they were looking to air grievances with their liege. She caught him looking, and he winked at her before moving on. Judith and Nader were in another corner of the room; she was laughing. He didn't doubt that had already been going on for some time, but that was none of his business even if he couldn't help to see it. Then he heard it, a whisper that wasn't meant for him, and he glanced at the speaker; a throng of Almyran lords huddled together and spoke. There was only one word he heard, so faint he was unsure he had even heard correctly. "Lapdog." No, that hadn't been right; did they look in his direction as they talked? He didn't dare look again, but maintained his relaxed posture, finished his drink, and slipped away.

It was early in the evening still, and the passages were still and silent, bereft of the usual bustle of the castle. It would take some time for life to return to normal here. A glance around to ensure he was alone, and he disappeared into an alcove; there was a hidden passage there that led to the royal apartments, in particular the bedroom. Khalid understood the palace to be full of hidden paths in the walls; someday he would find them all once he had the leisure to.

At the door, he listened until he was certain there were no attendants in the room waiting for their mistress. Inside, the room was dark, illuminated by only the sliver of the moon rising. He built a fire and lit it with a scrap twist of paper from the hearth. Sitting room, also empty, but he left the hearth cold and went to the desk. His fingers reached to feel for the locking mechanism for the secret drawer. He designed it himself, and tapped the buttons in the correct order to unlatch and open the drawer. "If you do it wrong, a poison will spill into the drawer and destroy anything in it, so be careful," he joked when he showed Byleth the pattern, and laughed at her alarmed face. It was a good idea, however, and he had implemented it when the desk at home in Almyra was built.

Their letters were al in this drawer, along with her wedding band. He smiled and from a hidden pocket in his clothes, he pulled a sealed letter and placed it inside the drawer. He had written it before the Almyran army had taken flight, and was too explicit in content to be trusted to any messenger. He hoped she would find it only after he had left again. With it he left one other item: a fishing lure designed wriggle upon hitting the water. Hopefully she could find time away from the bustle of the palace and find a quiet spot on the water.

That done, he shut the drawer again and went to the bedroom, where the fire crackled; a decent enough blaze. He hung his cloak and began to remove his regalia and all the padded riding gear of the king, and he folded it and set it aside on a chair; now he wore nothing but loose pants and an open shirt. Out the window, he watched the waves in the harbor, the slow lulling pulse of the water soothing. It had been the one thing he truly enjoyed about Derdriu after his move to become the Riegan heir, but he had always preferred nature to the artifices of man. There was not much of nature other than the ocean in the sprawling city of his grandfather.

A door opened and closed. He listened to the footsteps came closer, and then Byleth was in the doorway, the Sword of the Creator in hand. "Oh, it _is_ you."

"Still seeing enemies around every corner. You'll always be a mercenary, deep down." He looked at the sword. "When did it stop glowing?" It no longer burned bright red in her hand, but rather appeared dull and spent.

She put it away. "Since we struck down Nemesis. I don't know why."

Interesting; he would file that away for later use. Perhaps it would be a helpful lead if they were to separate Byleth from the goddess and make them two again. He held out his hand. "Come watch the waves with me."

Her body was warm against his, even if her heart didn't beat as it should. They stood there for a while, not speaking, just enjoying the beauty of the slivered moon rise over the ocean. Damage to the harbor had been minimal, and they could almost pretend Derdriu wasn't in shambles. Her gaze turned toward him after a time, and she kissed him. Clothes fell away as they moved from the window to bed. He was already at attention even before he saw the tautness of her breasts, before his fingers touched and found wetness. "Khalid." It was a sigh, both a request and an affirmation.

"Byleth." She was already on his lap, guiding and pushing. The morning they'd shared with all its sleepy, sloppy fondling, could not compare to this passion. "You're going too quickly, my love. Make it last."

She touched his mouth with rough fingers that he kissed; the fingers of a warrior, and he hoped they would never grow to become a soft noble's touch. "Are you saying you are only good once?" She pushed him down and it began in earnest. Soon, much too soon for his liking, her body trembled with relief, and he felt release himself as she pressed firmly against his hips. He wondered how it felt to her when they separated; it left him with a pang of loneliness, his body limp and the air sharply cool compared to the warmth of inside her.

They lay beside one another, exposed to each other as much as the open air. Even he tired of secrets at times, and these moments felt all the more precious because of all his scheming. "Did you come looking for me?"

"Sort of." Her face scrunched a little with his touch, his index finger trailing from between her eyes to the tip of her nose. "I thought I would find you here."

Khalid laughed and continued to stroke her face. "And still you came through the door with sword at the ready."

"It's not like you to forget such a simple detail like the door being shut when you first entered." She smiled when he groaned, chagrined.

"You looked preoccupied as you left the party. Did something happen?"

He shook his head and he leaned closer until his head rested against her collarbone. Khalid pulled her closer, seeking her comfort. "I only thought about how I hoped you wouldn't leave me waiting." A veil passed between them with those words, and for the end of his days, he would regret that error of omission.


	6. Once a Mercenary

Now, four years later, Khalid felt the weight of that night; it was the match lit under what would become the uprising against him. Whispers became outright accusations of their king being the "Ashen Demon's lapdog;" they could have at least called her the Fell Star in the epithet. None of their care to keep the details of their relationship secret would have mattered, anyway, the Alymran lords were already forming their opinion of Khalid's rule before the wyverns had even taken flight to aid the Fodlan queen.

Those petty resentments and doubts about his loyalties grew and grew, and now here he was, on the wrong side of a civil war against some of those same lords that he led against the Argathan uprising back then. His commanders gathered for their strategy meeting, Kadija sitting in her father's place. No one argued with that, but he was sure it would raise some eyebrows; it was her fortress now, and she was smart. He would have to pick a replacement for Nader, and soon. Later. He cleared his throat. "We need more men. We can winter here well enough, but that doesn't change the fact that we need troops for when the spring comes. Mercenaries are always an option."

"An expensive option," Alai said.

"All the mercenaries have been bought up," Fared said.

Kadija snorted. "All the ones in Almyra. There's plenty to be bought in Fodlan and beyond." 

A harumph back. "We would be better served by giving children swords and putting them on the march."

She looked over the table. "Even you lords and captains are reluctant to look to Fodlan for help? Nothing will change the fact that Khalid has ties to Fodlan; his mother will not magically become Almyran, no matter how much you might pray. If we are to win, perhaps it's time to put aside your old grudges and reach out to our former enemies. If my father Nader the Undefeated could become friends with Holst Goneril, then the rest of you can swallow your pride and hire some Fodlans to fight for us."

Shamed looks around the table; finally, a voice. "Who should go with his Majesty?"

"I don't need an escort, Rashad. I'll move faster alone." On this point, he wouldn't be moved. "We need as many troops here in case our opponents are foolish enough to attempt a winter siege, and we still have too many wounded to mount a serious defense if they do." So it was decided; Khalid would go west and the others would stay here to support Kadija in this mountain fortress.

"Thank you," he murmured to Kadija later as they walked through the halls after.

"I didn't do it for you," she replied sharply. "I do this for Almyra. Now do us all a favor and go see that queen of yours and raise an army. Stop letting your pride get in the way of victory. What happened to the Khalid that would stay up all night grinding dried flower petals and mushrooms to hide in his tormentors' meals? That is the king we need, not this man who is too stubborn to look weak to the woman he loves." She waved a dismissive hand. "Go see Byleth and beg for her help, if you must."

He laughed, more out of surprise than anything. "We shall keep this between us."

"You're not doing anything that wasn't decided on. She was a mercenary once, after all." She glanced at him askew. "You are king, you don't have to do everything by committee rule like you did in Leicester."

Pity she did not have the stature that would allow him to elevate her to general; such a mind at work. Someday, she would be just as skilled as her father. "One last favor. Alemarmar would attract too much attention, and it wouldn't do if a scout saw her traveling west."

"Qadir is yours to borrow. But that does bring me to one other point." He indicated he was listening. "If she isn't seen in flight at all while you are gone, it might also raise suspicions, and you know she doesn't let just anyone ride her."

"I have just the solution for that, as well." Hopefully a certain saint had picked up the skill from her equally holy father. "Kadija."

"Your Majesty."

"Do you approve?"

She laughed. "What kind of question is that? You've never required anyone's good opinion about your personal matters, not since we were kids and the others treated you so horribly. I don't give a damn who or what you lead to bed so long as it doesn't injure the future of Almyra." She grew very sober and serious. "If it did, I wouldn't be able to forgive you for my father."

They had reached his rooms; this is where he would take his leave. "I'll make sure his death was not for nothing."

"I know." And like that, she was gone down the hall. He watched her walk away for a long time, until she turned a corner out of sight. Regardless of rank and status, she had all the makings of a fine right-hand woman. As soon as he was able, he would elevate her properly. But first, they had a war to win, and he went inside his chambers.

There was a bath drawn, smelling of pine and still steaming. He dismissed the attendants; he never much liked being bathed by others. Kettle filled and put on the fire, he sat down at the dressing table and began removing rings and bracelets from his hands and all these little markings of the king fit snugly into a velvet lined box. Next, his earring twisted out, and he dipped it into the wash basin for cleaning before it was threaded back into the hole. Last, he tugged the chain from around his neck out from under its hiding place under his collar. A ring of silver and a rainbow of gems; this he put in the drawer, hidden away from sight. He had only worn it once on his finger, on the night Seiros joined them in marriage.

The kettle shrieked, so he went to attend to it, unfastening his collar as he went. The boiling water went into the bath; steaming it may have been, it was never hot enough. His clothes he left in a puddle near the bed, and he lowered himself into the water. It was an almost acceptable temperature; he could feel knots in his back and thighs quivering and loosening. The only thing that could make this better was a glass of wine. Pity he needed his wits about him tonight.

Doubtful the queen had not been asked for assistance by Brigid by now. Even with her forces, he would need actual paid mercenaries. It was coming on winter, and so he was sure to find Leonie and her group wintering near Garreg Mach; it was easy money to take jobs for the church during the months the Officer's Academy was in session. What's more, what Cethleann said had unnerved him. _T_ _he Goddess creeps_. He cursed his younger self for sleeping through all those sermons during his time at the monastery. Perhaps he would know what to do for his dearest. But, if anyone could explain those cryptic words, it was Seiros. Yes, it would be best to go to Garreg Mach first and then backtrack to Derdriu.

So much the better; once he was in the capital he knew he would be in no hurry to leave. Four long years separated the last time he had seen his Fell Star standing on the docks of the Aquatic Capital, her arm lifted in a gesture of farewell as the Almyrans took flight. If he had known then that would be so long between meetings, he would have given into his desire to turn around and sweep her into Alemar's saddle. Kidnapping a monarch would be decidedly easier if the monarch in question was amenable to the plan.

He yawned, suddenly aware of the tepidness of the water. He glanced out the window; it was late, and he had a long journey ahead. The water splashed as he hefted himself out; he would leave it for the attendants tomorrow. Tonight he wanted to be left alone. He dried off and pulled on the sleeping robe that had been left out. Two logs on the fire to keep it alive until morning, and he slipped into bed to wait for sleep.


	7. The Hero of Daphnel

Judith had never once shrunk from a fight; it was simply something a Daphnel didn't do. Retreat when prudent to do so, but never out of fear. Even as the Edmund house rose to prominence, the other houses of the Leicester Alliance had delayed replacing Daphnel until it was all but inevitable; a compliment to Judith's measured counsel and fearlessness in a fight. But even she hesitated before walking toward the queen's door, still unsure if it was wise to tell her this particular bit of intelligence.

A scout had come not half an hour before with the concerning news. "And you're absolutely sure it was the Almyran king? You know his face?" She had scouts everywhere at all times, even peaceful ones as these. Just another reason the other lords had been reluctant to demote Daphnel in favor of a wealthier house. Now, she had taken a more or less permanent spot in Riegan Palace to assist the new queen; it really wasn't too much trouble being only half a day's ride from Daphnel.

The scout swallowed; he was a newer one and unused to speaking to Judith. It would wear off in time. "My lady, that mercenary, Pinelli. She talked to them like they were old friends. I heard the name Claude several times."

 _What in the name of the goddess is the boy playing at?_ She had been so sure that this now needed to be brought to Byleth's attention, but now she hesitated. She had been unstable at times; would this unhinge her completely? Judith knew their secret; not really a secret at this point, but until they chose to make it public, she would hold her tongue.

Now she was about to tell the queen that Claude had come west at last but not to her for aid. But then she heard the queen's raised voice behind the door. "You should have come to me first!" A man's voice replied, too low to make out the words, but Judith knew the voice well enough; how had he gotten in the palace without anyone noticing, much less into the queen's apartment? "I don't have the numbers, I've committed Gaspard and Aegir to Brigid's aid, not to mention Lorenz to lead them." Eavesdropping wasn't the best habit to have, but Judith couldn't help but continue to listen. She leaned closer to the door, hoping to catch Claude's half of the conversation. Unlikely, as he spoke in low, soothing tones in hopes of soothing Byleth's rage. "It's too late to mobilize the Faerghus nobles, the snow's already set and Rodrigue is ill. Damn it, Khalid!"

"I went to see Cichol and Seiros," Claude replied, his voice rising at last as their argument continued. Judith felt cold; that couldn't be. They had lived a thousand years ago, perhaps even more. "Cethleann has been trying to find out a solution from the monastery library, but no luck." Now it was Byleth's voice that was unintelligible through the heavy wood. "To reverse what happened to you, of course. I don't want to lose you, Byleth. If we could separate you from Sothis, I would do anything." Another unintelligible comment from the queen, but Judith could hear the bitterness in that voice. "She refused to even see me. Cichol said she's still too weak, and might not recover." Now it was his voice that was unintelligible as it dropped into something more tender.

Judith slipped away from the door, her head full. Seiros and two saints still live despite a millennium between now and the war with Nemesis; it was almost too much to believe. But from the mouth of the boy, she could believe it to be true. He was a skeptic at best in the Fodlan church, so it would take some doing to convince him.

There wasn't much she could do about the more personal parts of the conversation, but there was something bothering her; with all of Byleth's head for strategy, she seemed to be too emotional, too distracted to think properly. The sun was setting, so she would be alone. Judith picked up her pace as she walked up the stairs to the war room, where a map was laid out of Fodlan. It was older and still showed the divisions of empire and kingdom now gone, but she was more interested in the subdivisions within. It was true, they had Aegir and Gaspard pledged to Brigid's aid. Varley would potentially send some troops, but the Bear herself could never be convinced to venture forth. Bergliez had not been absorbed by any one house yet; perhaps from there they could find fighters without too much political upset.

Her fingers traced north from there. The Gloucester boy was set to command their Brigid support, but his vassals had mostly stayed behind. They could convince his father to send aid, and they could be put under the temporary command of Goneril. She could spare a few, she thought idly as her gaze went north; now that Galatea territory was under Daphnel again, she had more than enough to spare. They had the soldiers; the problem were commanders. Goneril and herself alone were not nearly enough, especially if the queen's grasp of herself was tenuous at best.

The door opened with a creak, and inside stepped Khalid; his eyes widened, and then the stammering started. "Judith, I, ah, just got here."

"I heard you in the queen's rooms."

"Oh." She laughed a little; even now she could still ruffle those kingly feathers. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough."

He sighed. "Enough to have the same idea as me." Claude came to stand beside her at the map. She caught the scent of something floral as he came closer; the queen's lavender. Just how long had he been here? "Tell me your thoughts, my friend."

"Her Majesty is only slightly off the mark. We've troops enough, even if we have to pull them from every corner of this land. There's time until spring to gather everyone that way. Our problem is commanders, seeing as she's put the most prominent on the Brigid problem."

"If it even is a problem. All that smoke from Dagda might be only that, and that would solve everything." He shook his head. "I'll never be that lucky, though."

She tapped a finger on the north. "If we had either Gautier or Fraldarius, it would help to support myself and Goneril. But the Margravine dislikes it when Sylvain isn't home."

"And Rodrigue is on his last days. I saw him at the monastery; it was his wish to be blessed by Lady Rhea." He tapped the map again. "But if we could find a way to bring Dorothea and the children here-" he traced a line and stopped at a spot of no obvious significance, "the good Margrave might be persuaded to join our cause."

"And what is at that?"

He shrugged. "Just a small school of no importance."

"Boy-"

"They'll be safe, that's the important thing. Can't you trust me, Judith?"

"You keep too many secrets to ever be trusted."

He laughed. "At least I'm honest about my secrecy."


	8. A Long Nap

Kadija had her doubts about the strange little Fodlan girl with the emerald hair when she first showed up that the fortress, demanding to speak to "Claude von Riegan" with an archaic lilt to her talk, and doubted even more when Khalid casually mentioned that special care should be taken of the girl as she was some sort of important figure in the Fodlan church. She seemed naive about the world at best, but it was her king's command, even if he was a fool.

Strange things began to happen ever since Flayn arrived. The wounded, for one, seemed to be healing unusually quickly, especially when that girl visited the infirmary. Kadija had tried to prevent her from entering; a young girl with no fighting experience did not need to be exposed to such horrors, but Flayn ignored all the protesting and went inside. She touched no one and said nothing, only walked down the rows of beds looking distraught. Men would later report wounds closing before their eyes, and couple even swore that they could feel bones mending as she passed.

Then there was the matter of Khalid's most outrageous request, which directly contradicted his first comments that the girl should be protected at all costs; how in the name of the gods was she supposed to put this slight girl on Alemarmar's saddle and she not break? At least Flayn hadn't been there when Khalid had taken flight on Qadir. That had been a mess; even with half the captains holding Alemar's tether she'd nearly broken loose. She'd never met a more jealous wyvern in all her years.

How they had found such a small riding outfit was another mystery, but Flayn looked comfortable enough in the outfit with her emerald hair tucked under a cap. "Are you sure this will work?" One of the captains muttered as they climbed the steps to the tethers. "She looks nothing like his Majesty."

"It's Alemarmar that's the trick; anyone who sees us will be more focused on the wyvern than the rider." At least, she hoped that's how Khalid's scheme played out. On the roof, the albino wyvern lay surrounded by the others at a safe distance; she had been snapping at the others since Khalid took flight. "Careful, now, Mistress Flayn," Kadija said. "She's been vicious as of late."

"Don't worry about me." At her voice, the wyvern's wings began to beat, and a petulant trill escaped. "I know, he left you all alone." Alemarmar lifted her head, and took something from the girl's outstretched hand. "How about we go for a ride?" A command from Kadija, and Alemarmar bent her head while a captain helped Flayn into the seat. "No trouble at all."

The girl knew how to ride; that was a surprise, even with Khalid's confidence. More surprising still was how gentle Alemar behaved. "Just a loop around this area, just in case there are scouts," Kadija directed. "Keep an eye out for anything unusual." They went in pairs, and she with the girl westward; strange to think that the Fodlan border would be the most protected side of her territory. Even after all these years, it was still an odd feeling to think of the western flank as allies. "What did you give her?"

"Oh, that. Sugar cubes." Flayn laughed, her voice light as the wind. "She was always tethered with the pegasi, and would get jealous if they got sugar so the handlers always had to have extra on hand or she would raise such a fuss that Claude would have to come to soothe her. Such a sweet dear." She patted her neck, eliciting another trill.

The western flank was clear. They flew just far enough to be seen by the watch at Fodlan's Locket; if anything, perhaps it would reach Khalid's ears that his scheme worked and they were able to take flight. Another quick loop, and they turned east again to return home.

Someone was flying up and fast; Alai, who had been scouting to the east. "Kadija, there's an army."

The only sounds were the beating of wings for several long moments and then she cleared her throat. "How many?"

"The whole rebel army, it looks like."

So, five thousand strong; they had hardly half that number that would be well enough to fight. Still, it was madness to assail a mountain fortress with winter approaching. "How long until they're here?"

He shrugged. "A week, at least. Perhaps more, if it snows."

"Send any messengers you need in that time." Gone was the girlish enthusiasm from Flayn's voice, and she spoke with decisiveness. "Quickly, back to the fortress. I must prepare."

Once they lighted down, Flayn took Kadija's arm and pulled her away from the others. "I can delay them once they approach the fortress, but I cannot hold it forever."

"How long?"

She pursed her lips. "Two weeks at most, so we have three in all. But once they are here, no one can come in or out of this place until the spell ends. Send messages to Byleth and Claude quickly, and perhaps we can get a response before the army approaches." A hesitation, and then, "If I do this, the Knights of Seiros will come, as well, but they might not be as friendly as you hope. I will write to my brother."  


She had misjudged this girl; what other secrets did her king's allies keep, and how many remained secret even from him? "What do you require to prepare?"

Flayn smiled. "I would like a fish for dinner, carp if it can be caught, and a cup of apple tea. After, please make sure no one disturbs me until the army is at the walls. I will need all the sleep I can get."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short, sorry, but it's a necessary bit.
> 
> I've always found it very sweet how Claude is animated in a wyvern class, so I couldn't help but make his baby spoiled rotten.


	9. A Goddess Appears

The man sometimes called Khalid and sometimes Claude slept still, and Sothis watched him breathe in that slow steady rhythm humans did such things. Lips parted, eyelids fluttering as he dreamed; what did humans dream of, anyway? She couldn't remember the last time their dreams were Byleth's, and what the girl had dreamed all those years ago was long forgotten. 

She touched his face with a finger, tracing from temple to jaw. Byleth was still there inside; Sothis would not have touched a mortal in such a way as she had no need for intimacy. It was pleasant in a painful way, these feelings the other felt for the man. Bittersweet, they called it. _She_ loved him in a way she had not loved any others, and it was her strongest hold on their body, a shining thread of affection for this strange, complicated man that continued to anchor her to earth.

Both goddess and human knew that Sothis had more control over the vessel than anyone suspected, and it was only for the love of Byleth that Sothis let her continue to do her work. The problems of the crown still required a human touch; the goddess was content to allow the mortal to use their body to settle these petty human concerns for a while longer. Most of the time, at least. She sighed, and retreated to allow the mortal consciousness to come to the fore. To work.

Byleth lay down and buried herself in Khalid. He stirred only slightly, just enough to put his arms around her as she breathed in deep. Honey and sandalwood in his hair, lavender from the bath they'd shared, and his own scent which always reminded her of the quiet hour before daybreak. Today he would leave with letters for the Gautiers, for Manuela, for half of Fodlan it seemed. They had so much hope at the end of the Dawn War that her rule would be peaceful with Almyra and Fodlan together as great allies in this corner of the world. How blind they had been to think the world would dawn as rosy as this morning was; they should have known those colors came at the price of blood and the flames of war.

"Don't think of such things," he said, his voice slightly slurred with the last of sleep. "Whatever you're thinking that's making your grip my shirt like that, don't think of them." Her fists were tangled up in the fabric, white-knuckled, and she loosened her grip. A kiss touched her forehead, and he pulled her closer. "When this is over, I'll come back here, and we'll stay together for a long time, at least six months. No matter what happens."

"You have responsibilities."

"Not just to Almyra, dear." She listened to his voice with one ear, his heartbeat with the other. "I should have never let it get as far as it did." Another kiss in her hair. "But enough talk about that. Let's have one last meal together before I attempt to bribe Margravine Gautier to allow us to steal her husband."

They ate in the sitting room; apples cut into slices, honey and milk and bread as always. He poured chamomile tea. "When you come to Najafa, I'll make sure there's all the fruits you've never had every day. We could even pick some in the orchards near the capital. Pomegranates, figs, sweet melons, apricots, anything you desire."

He always talked too much when he was thinking ugly thoughts; she tended to silence, he to garrulousness. "What's really on your mind?"  


She could see it in his face as the facade fell away, all his artifice and scheming set aside as easily as removing a cloak. There was the man behind all the talk. He set his cup down and took her hands in his. "We don't have much longer. I made peace with the fact that you would disappear from your body even before that night at the Goddess Tower, but I thought it wouldn't be this quickly. I've wasted enough time trying to keep everyone else happy." He kissed her hand. "Before you go, I'd like to spend as much time as we can. To hell with everyone else." And then he laughed. "After all, I'm a king, shouldn't I be able to do what I like?"

"We have to win a war first."

"Isn't that always the way?" There was a knock on the door, and he leaned back in his chair, the flippant charmer coming to the fore again as the attendant came in with a bow. He still had one of her hands in his. A messenger with an urgent message. She allowed it, and in came a man in leather riding gear. "My dear, this is Captain Rashad. Rashad, this is the queen of all Fodlan, Queen Byleth the Fell Star."

"I hoped I would find you here still, Khalid. You must come immediately." Rashad sat without much ceremony. "The rebel army approaches the fortress."

She frowned. How did this army take Najafa if they were foolish enough to attempt a winter siege in the mountains? She held her tongue as Khalid rubbed his cheek with one hand, his mind working behind a crinkled brow. "How far away?"

"Five days in all, minus the two days it took me to get here. They were a week out when I left." Rashad looked at the queen, then at Khalid again. "That strange Fodlan girl said she could hold them off herself for two weeks if necessary, and then she went to bed. She was still sleeping when I left." He shook his head. "Are all Fodlanders this strange?"

"You'll never meet anyone as strange as Flayn and her brother, Fodlander or otherwise."

A shake of her head. "We still need Sylvain's troops and Leonie's mercenaries." There wasn't enough time; three weeks to gather everyone and cross the Throat? "One of us has to go to Sylvain, and you're faster."

Khalid's eyes closed, deep in thought. "We don't necessarily need the Gautier troops if we can be sneaky enough to catch them off guard with the reinforcements, but we need him to command the cavalry."

"Especially since that girl Flayn gave me a letter to bring to Garreg Mach. Seemed awfully confident they would mobilize the church knights as well."

"Did she now?" He groaned. "Seteth is going to pull my beard out whisker by whisker when he finds out I knew where she was and didn't tell him." He tapped the table with two fingers. "You're right, I'll get Sylvain. Rashad, take her Majesty to Garreg Mach and then to Gloucester territory to rally troops there. I told Leonie to bring her group here, so we can leave a note with Judith so she can start moving toward Fodlan's Locket."

Rashad looked dubious. "Your Majesty, have you ever ridden a wyvern?"

The king looked pained at the question; she smiled at the artifice of it. "Please, Rashad. Do you think I would trust you with my dear wife if she had never flown before? If she can stay on Alemar, Reza will be no problem at all."


	10. The Margravine's the Trick

It was snowing when he landed at Castle Gautier a day and a half later, and he saw the bright red hair of the Margrave as he emerged from under the awning to watch as Khalid and Qadir lazily circled down into the courtyard. Gautier long held the line against the people of Sreng, and the castle was built more for that purpose than comfort; small wonder Sylvain had been quite wild as a youth and always was on the hunt for any small pleasures he could take. Such bleak surroundings would make anyone a little desperate.

At least Qadir behaved well enough to allow the stablehands to take him to the tether grounds. Sylvain approached once the wyvern and the handlers were busy. "You've flown too far west, your Majesty. I believe you may have gotten yourself turned around being all the way up there."

Khalid laughed. "Oh, if only it were true." He reached in his vest and produced a letter sealed with the Crest of Flames. "Your queen requires your services, but that letter is old news. The situation has changed, but there was no time to write another."

Sylvain looked at the letter but had not reached to take it. "She knows that I don't need a royal command to be at her service."

"Still, there are formalities and niceties that should be observed." A laugh, and the letter changed hands. "But as I've said, that letter was written before we knew the full extent of the situation. How quickly can you get ready?"

As his eyes skimmed the letter, Sylvain replied thoughtlessly, "Four weeks at least. But it will be slow going to get my troops from here to to Derdriu."

"Not your vassals, just you."

He stopped reading and looked up. "What's this about, Cl-Khalid?"

"Let's go inside, I'm about frozen through. Somewhere away from Dorothea's ears if possible."

They found an unused sitting room and after the fire was lit and gluehwein brought, Sylvain shooed the attendants out. "They don't like to leave me alone for a moment."

"The price of nobility is in exchange for never having to worry about petty household concerns is that you'll never get a moment of privacy." The drink helped him feel his toes and fingers again, and then he took another sip to taste something familiar; sweet cardamom and nutmeg. He missed the market back home. "Let me fill you in." He explained, Sylvain listened with attentiveness that surprised him; Ingrid's death sobered him more than anyone had really understood.

At last, Khalid came to a halt with his words having run out. Sylvain looked thoughtful for a moment before finishing his glass and setting it aside. "I'm always the queen's to command, and not just because I'm duty bound to follow the direction of her Majesty. But Dorothea," he bit his lip and looked to the fire. "That's really who the letter is for, isn't it?"

He considered the Margrave in a new light; always a flippant man when they were classmates. Hell, he changed classes simply because he wanted to be closer to the pretty new professor. But this Sylvain was thoughtful, insightful in ways Khalid could have never anticipated. A better man, a better husband than any of them could have guessed. A better husband than he himself had been, he thought with a cringe. "What happened to Dorothea that made her hate war so much?"

"Fodlan isn't like Almyra where fighting's like breathing." He just looked at him for a long moment, and then Sylvain sighed as he reached for the decanter once again. "You know she saw Caspar get cut down during Fort Merceus? They were close at the academy, and he tried to convince her to stay in Enbarr during the war." He shook his head. "They never made up."

Khalid sighed. "If we had any other choice, Sylvain."

A laugh. "I might not be as clever as you, your Majesty, but I do know something of strategy." He sighed again. "I'll be ready in the morning. Might want to tie me to you for the trip, though." The last of the decanter was poured into Khalid's cup. "You're going to need it if we're to face Dorothea."

They moved to lighter topics; Sylvain beamed when asked about his children and talked at length, marveling about Caspar and Hugo's antics, but mostly he talked about little Ingrid Galatea Gautier. An attendant was summoned to fetch the boys and tell the Margravine that King Khalid would be upstairs soon to see her and the infant. "She will want to brush her hair before she's seen."

Caspar was three, Hugo two, both brown haired and eyed. Loud and quarrelsome with each other, they argued in child speak even as they attendant brought them into the room, ended suddenly when they spied their father. "Papa!" It was a chorus of two, high pitched children's voices, and the boys climbed over each other and Sylvain's knees to sit on his lap. "Did you know there's a wyvern here? We saw it from the window, but Nanny Margot wouldn't let us go down to the courtyard."

"Ride, Papa," Hugo babbled, and Sylvain bounced his knee obligingly. Those serious brown eyes fixed on Khalid. "Hello!"

"Hello, little one." He extended a hand, but that face changed into open suspicion. "Do you like wyverns?"

Caspar's head nodded vigorously. Bolder than his brother, he slid off the Margrave's lap and walked closer. "Do you?"

Khalid waved him closer, and leaned in close to the boy's ear as if they were sharing some great secret. "I'm the one who brought the wyvern here." A gasp, and the boy looked at him as wide eyed as one could be. "Perhaps if you're very good and listen to Nanny Margot for the rest of the day, your Papa will let you come with me to pet him."

"That will absolutely not be happening, Claude." They all looked up to see the entrance of Margravine Gautier carrying a swaddling bundle. "My children will not go anywhere near any wyvern you've brought."

He stood and bowed. "You're looking well, my dear lady."

She huffed. "That silk tongue won't get you anywhere with me today." Dorothea looked at Sylvain. "Why is the king of Almyra in my house?"

"Thea, please. Not with the children here."

Khalid approached her, cooing. "After all, I haven't met the greatest member of House Gautier." She looked slightly mollified as he gently took the bundle from her arms. Ingrid was so tiny and beautiful, her eyes still blue and wisps of reddish hair peeking out from under the blankets; it was easy to see why her father was besotted. "Hello, darling. I'm your Uncle Khalid." He looked up to see Dorothea's face; strange, she was crying. "You know I wouldn't ask anything from you if it wasn't necessary."

She turned her face away and wiped her eyes discreetly. "Damn you, Claude. You always, _always_ , know the right time to actually be sincere." She reached over and touched Ingrid's sleeping face. "Whatever you need from Sylvain, just make sure you bring him back in one piece." Then she took the baby back into her arms. "Syl, it's time for supper. I'll have something brought here and have a bed made for you, your Majesty." He bowed, and didn't break it until the Gautier family had left the room. It could have gone a lot worse, all things considered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, Sylvain might not be my video game husband, but he's definitely my sidepiece. I adore him.


	11. Rhea's Silence

Garreg Mach. It was near evening when they landed just outside the gates, the walls of the monastery painted pink with the setting sun. To his credit, Rashad was a gentleman and helped her down from the wyvern's back; it really had been too long since she had taken flight, and it gave her a new appreciation of the Almyran battalions. "You ride better than I expected, your Majesty."

"Khalid is a good teacher," she replied almost without thought. Then she looked at him, shifting on his feet in agitation. "You have nothing to worry about while you're with me, you know."

"I'll stay here all the same," Rashad said. "Reza doesn't like strange stablehands." Well enough; the less people who saw an Almyran wyvern master in Garreg Mach, the better.

A familiar sight approached them; Alois had not aged much in the last four years, but the captain's regalia gave him some gravitas. "Captain."

"Your Majesty, sir. You're looking unchanged as ever." He offered his arm, and she took it. "I'm sure everyone here will be glad to see you once again. Unexpected visits from the queen always bring such activity to the monastery, you know."

She smiled; always an affable man. "We haven't much time, I'm afraid. Could I have an audience with Seteth as soon as possible?"

"Of course, but I have to warn you, he's out of sorts. Flayn took off in a huff, and he's been-well, you know how Seteth is about his sister." They climbed the stairs.

"It's a good thing I bring news about his sister, then." This had not changed; the only real difference was the absence of Manuela in the infirmary, and Byleth briefly missed the sound of her singing to herself when there were no patients to be attended to. Seteth looked pale as he worked, his desk always piled with paperwork, but at least he had the presence of mind to stand and bow when she entered the room. "Shut the door, please. And Alois, stay. This concerns you as well."

"Your Majesty, what an unexpected-" he stopped as she held out Flayn's letter, his name written in her prim hand. He took it and sat back down, consuming the letter with hungry eyes. "Oh, that _child_."

"She's expecting the knights to come to her aid." He was reading it again, and then it was folded and put into his coat. "What is Flayn planning, Seteth?"

He sighed, a hand going through his hair. Rarely was he anything but composed and measured, but here he was, wrecked by the contents of that letter. "Something very dangerous."

"We have Gloucester, Gautier, Goneril, and Daphnel, plus some mercenaries Khalid hired. Will you come?"

"Yes, of course. I will speak to Rhea immediately, but, Alois," he glanced up and the captain snapped to attention. "It would be best if you get your knights ready to march." He stood up again, and glanced at Byleth. "Come with me, she'll want to see you."

Alois saluted. "As you command, Seteth. But where will be going?"

"We're meeting at Fodlan's Locket, and from there, Almyra." Now Seteth had her arm, leading her to the third floor of the monastery. "I'm sorry," she said in a soft voice when they were alone on the stairs.

His mouth was pressed thin. "We've been having difficulties for a long time. Perhaps she is getting too old for me to be so protective. Well, perhaps that isn't the right turn of phrase, considering."

She gave his arm a squeeze. "But I'm the one that sent her to Almyra."

A laugh, and she looked at him, surprised. "There she might be safer than in Fodlan. They don't know just how special she is, after all. I've considered sending her to Khalid for awhile, just to see if she could be safe without me." They came upon the landing, and Seteth knocked on the door to Rhea's room. "Rhea, Byleth is here."

The voice was faint. "All right, Seteth. Let her come in." He opened the door, and she went inside to find the archbishop with her hair undone, spilling over her white shift dress in waves. She looked tired; how could she still be so weak from her imprisonment? "Dear child, come, sit." Byleth settled on a chair beside the archbishop's. "How long has it been? You don't come to the monastery as often as I hoped."

"There's a lot to do to rule this land." A knock, and a servant came in with tea and cakes. She poured for Rhea; the woman's hands shook too much than Byleth liked to see when the archbishop reached for a pastry. "I should come more often, if it would make you happy."

"It would, very much so." The archbishop's voice whispered, a ghost of what it had once been. "I hope you've been well."

"I've been..." She swallowed, and set down her teacup with perhaps more force than necessary. "I have dreams, and headaches. I've been losing my temper, but when I do, it doesn't feel as if it is me."

Rhea frowned. "Child, you've got to stop fighting. It is fate that your body is just a vessel for the goddess."

Byleth looked at her, incredulous. "If you knew it would be this quick, why did you bless my marriage?" The wedding was done in secret with only Seteth and Flayn in attendance as Rhea officiated the short ceremony. "Khalid suffers, and now you won't even see him." There it was, that irrational anger, and she pushed it down.

"There's nothing I can do for him. That body had no heart of its own."

"Tell me the truth. Was I born without a heart, or did you remove it to place Sothis in this body?" She paused. "The Sword of the Creator doesn't glow the way it used to. Is that because this body is now Sothis, and her bones-"

"Don't-" her voice was rapidly becoming a whine. "Don't ask me such things, I beg you."

She stood, and Rhea looked up, still pleading. "I'm taking the Knights of Seiros to Almyra. Will you oppose me?"

"If it is the will of the goddess." She didn't look back as she left Rhea there with half-finished tea and cakes. 

Down the stairs at a rapid pace, she strode across the monastery grounds, ignoring the shocked stares and hurried bows left in her wake. She was almost out of the gates when she heard her name, and turned to see Seteth. "You'll take care of things here?"

"Your Majesty, you won't stay? It's a long journey from Derdriu."

She shook her head, feeling something shift inside her. "While Byleth still lives in in this body," Sothis said, "we won't come back to the monastery. I won't let any of you hurt her."

A nod, his eyes clouded with questions. "We'll speak more when we meet again at the Locket."

"Yes." She met Rashad and Reza outside the city. He seemed unfazed by their sudden departure, but he was extra careful to help her onto the saddle. Southeast to Gloucester, and then to Fodlan's Locket. Hopefully they would gather everyone in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really, really don't like Rhea.


	12. The Dragon's Eye

The genius of the layout of Fodlan's Locket was easily seen from the back of a wyvern. To be fair, it had been built up over the century to resist the flight battalions of Almyra so it would, naturally, look impressive from the air, but that didn't keep Khalid from appreciating the finer details of the place as they circled lazily to land. A difficult thing to do in the Locket, but Qadir had been trained by Nader himself, so they let down on the courtyard in a graceful sort of way. Even after all these years of peace, the guards looked wary at an Almyran wyvern rider in their midst, but perhaps they were less so when Sylvain slid out of the saddle with shaking knees; the man hated flying. "State your name and your business."

"Khalid, the king of Almyra, and I have a letter for Governor Holst Goneril." He held it out like a weapon, his other hand empty. "From her Majesty, the queen of Fodlan."

"Claude? And Sylvain?" A voice squeaked, and Hilda came out from under the awning. Her hair had grown out even more, still tied back in her usual way. "What in the world are you doing here, don't you know there's a rebellion in your own home? Do you have to come here to stir up trouble, too?"

He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm only here as an envoy for Byleth. Is your brother available?"

"Of course he is, I'll take you to him." Arms looped around each other, he tucked the letter away as she waved off the guards. "Go on, back to your patrols. And fetch the stablehands for the mount already." They entered the interior, and Hilda whispered to him, "I didn't expect you here. Where's that spoiled brat of yours, Ale-what was it?"

"Alemarmar attracts too much attention, so I borrowed another."

"Oh, that makes sense." She waved an airy hand as if they were just gossiping, but it didn't quite translate into a sincere smile on her face. "My brother wanted to come see you himself, but he's overexerted himself today." She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "He's always so stubborn about doing things himself."

"Must have been some heavy lifting to tire out the famous Governor Goneril," Sylvain commented as he followed along.

A beat too long in the conversation. "As if you're one to talk about being pigheaded," Khalid said with a smile, fully expecting what would happen next.

Sure enough, she squealed and pinched his side; thank Goddess for his padded riding gear, Hilda was stronger than she looked. "You have the least amount of room to say anything, Mr. Khalid von Riegan or whatever you're styling yourself these days."

He laughed. "Oh, Hilda, I've missed you." Then he sobered at a thought. "I wasn't expecting to see you. Might I ask a favor after I speak to Holst?"

"I'm yours to command, my king,"she said with a fluttering of eyelashes. "Unless you're asking me to fight, in which case, no thank you."

"Nothing like that, I assure you." They were at Holst's study, and so she opened the door, announcing him in a flippant way to her brother before flouncing away. He studied Governor Holst Goneril as he sat on the other side of the desk. Hilda was petite but strong; Holst was taller but more slender than one would expect of the greatest general of the former Alliance. His hair was no longer cropped close at it once had been maintained, but rather curled around his ears like pink flames. "Governor Holst, it's been too long."

Holst's hands were folded in front of him on the desk. "Your Majesty, it has been some time. And Margrave Gautier, an honor." He paused, and smiled a bit, if it was a bit sad. "Am I mistaken, or was that not Nader's wyvern you came in on?" Khalid nodded, and he chuckled. "You may be surprised, but I faced off against Nader enough to know the look of his mount. I'm sure he could describe my armor right down to which straps were new."

Khalid smiled. "Nader would be honored you think of him so. Be sure to tell his daughter that when you meet her." He held out the letter, and Holst leaned forward to take it. A frown as he read it, and then he folded it again and put it away. "I think you may be missing some information."

"Quite a bit, it seems." He paused, rubbing his chin. "This room is not very comfortable for a long discussion. Perhaps to my apartments? Hilda keeps nagging that I should retire for the evening, and as much as I hate to admit, she's not wrong." His eyes flickered to Sylvain. "Sir, are you to be trusted?"

Khalid cleared his throat. "Margrave Gautier knows how to keep a confidence, when he wants to." He stood up to walk around the desk.  


"Good." One arm around Khalid's neck, and the king assisted Holst Goneril to stand. He tried not to look down; Holst's hip had been crushed by Nemesis in that horrible march, and his legs now twisted in an unsightly way. "Thankfully my office was close to my rooms already, so there was minimal disruption to the flow of things here."

"Do you need help?" Sylvain seemed to have found his tongue at last; Khalid would have laughed if the tragedy wasn't clawing his throat shut.

"No, I thank you, one man is enough to assist. Or Hilda, when she's home." Together, they walked the short distance from the office to Holst's rooms. With a quick word to an attendant, the lord arranged for something to be brought from the kitchens, and Khalid helped him settle on a chaise sofa. "It's not general knowledge that I'm not able to walk without assistance any longer, you understand," he said, addressing Sylvain. "Hilda has no interest in leading Goneril, and I've been assured my injury will not prevent me from, well, fathering children," he said with a blush.

"You don't need to be delicate around me, Governor Goneril, trust me." He waved a hand. "I also understand the need to conceal certain truths."

"Outside this fortress, only a select few know about it." His face became lined with thought. "That will change with what her Majesty commands."

"If I thought your troops would follow Sylvain's and Judith's orders without encouragement, we wouldn't need you there to keep them in line. I know you can't take the field yourself, but your experience fighting Almyrans will be invaluable."

"I know how to lead cavalry in the mountains, but I've no experience against Almyran forces," Sylvain said. "It would be useful to have a Fodlan commander in the fortress with the king's forces."

It was Holst who waved a hand now. "It is the queen's command, of course I will follow." Then he looked at Khalid with a shrewd look; he was more like Hilda than anyone guessed, even though Holst was decidedly more serious than his sister. "If you are here with Nader's wyvern, then who did we see riding yours a few days ago?"

Khalid was grateful for the pause in the conversation as the attendants brought in food and some hot spiced drink. He supposed there was no getting around it; they would find out soon enough. "Seteth's little sister, Flayn."

Sylvain whistled, his eyes getting clouded with thought. "How did you convince Seteth to allow something that dangerous?"

He cleared his throat. "He didn't know. He probably does now, as the Knights should be joining us as well." Byleth should be marching here shortly with whatever troops they can peel from Gloucester. "Now you know all the pieces, Holst."

He nodded slowly, thinking. "I should be able to come up with something. I'm assuming we hope it to be a surprise attack from reinforcements?" Khalid nodded, and Holst looked at Sylvain. "Tomorrow, you and I will come up with a suitable strategy to present to their Majesties." He held out his hand, and Sylvain took it. Khalid allowed himself a small smile; when he was a kid, it would have been impossible to imagine Holst Goneril and Sylvain Gautier coming together as comrades in arms to rally against a threat to their ally Almyra, and yet there they were.

"I'll leave you good sirs to it." Khalid stood despite his protesting legs and went in search of the other Goneril. A guard gave him directions to Hilda's rooms, and he wandered through the halls of the Locket in no particular hurry and to avoid anyone noticing his limp. Nearly four days in the saddle was a bit much even for him, and Qadir was not near as graceful as his darling Alemar. He knocked when he at last came to her door, and was allowed inside.

Her rooms were surprisingly tidy. Unlike Holst's rooms, which were spare, her sitting room was full of sofas with deep fur rugs littering the floor. "Claude, I thought you would still be busy with my brother." 

"He and Sylvain are coming up with a strategy to present to the queen. Do you mind?" He pointed at his boots, and she shrugged. He took the first off with a groan as his foot came free; it felt good to stretch and wiggle his toes. The second came with the same noise, and he set them upright and began to remove his cloak. He knew Hilda watched him curiously but she said nothing. They had been friends too long for her to fill the room with her usual disarming, inane chatter. "I'm surprised to find you at the Locket," he said at last as he removed his gloves and came to sit on one of the plush sofas.

She shrugged. "Holst gets lonely. Marianne and I usually winter here to keep him company." There were tea and cakes, but he shook his head when she offered. "Suit yourself. So, tell me what's on your mind."

"Why would anything be on my mind? I can't come see you just to have some conversation other than battle tactics for a change?" She tilted her head, and he sighed. "How do you know me so well?"

"Once I got on a wyvern, you knew we would be partners on the battlefield." This was true; Hilda had whined but Byleth was steel willed, and they had made a good team with Hilda and her wyvern battalion in the front and Khalid in the second row with his archers. "Tell me what happened. Not the battle part, I'm done with that. Something happened to make you refuse to ask Byleth for help."

"It's easier to show you." Khalid reached into his coat, searching for the secret pocket he stashed it. He found it at last in one of his sleeves, and pulled out a broken diadem. "You remember that story I told you about my mother getting into a fistfight with my weapons master? She was wearing this when it happened." He laughed a little. "She always hated the thing anyway, so it was never repaired." It made his throat tighten a bit at the memory; Nader laughed hard and long at being beaten so soundly by the Fodlan lady even as he pressed a waterskin filled with snow against a blackened eye.

Hilda took the pieces and examined them with a professional eye. "It would be an easy fix, just a little bit of work at the break and it wouldn't even be noticeable." She looked up. "You were going to repair it and give it to Byleth."

"I was going to have the stones removed to make her a new one with this." And he held out one last piece; a large square emerald which winked at them in the daylight. Hilda took it with almost reverent tenderness. "It's called the Dragon's Eye. Someone found out and, well, everything just blew up in my face from there. A group tried to set sail for Derdriu to sack the city, and I couldn't let that happen."

"You were going to announce her as queen of Almyra. Finally, how long have you made her wait?"

He had to laugh at the fierceness in Hilda's face. "It was a mutual decision to keep it secret. Think, Hilda, how hard it was already to convince the southern lords to accept a mercenary as the queen of all Fodlan, now also explain to them that she's married to Duke Riegan who is also an Almyran prince. It would have undermined her in the eyes of most of the established lords before she had even started her reign." He shook his head. "The real error was lingering in Derdriu so long after that battle. My people love a good fight, but the reconstruction rankled more than a few of my commanders."

She had a jeweler's loupe in hand, and set to examine the emerald. "It's nearly flawless. The cut's impressive as well." She looked up at him. "You want me to make her a crown? That was the favor you mentioned."

"Yes. I'm not leaving anything to chance for when we win this war." He'd been forced to drag his darling Byleth into the battle, so he'd be damned if he lost now.

"So much confidence." She waved a hand at him. "We'll settle on a price later, yes?"

"You could ask me for half of Almyra and I would agree if you do this for me."

She laughed. "But the sandy half, right? With all the difficult commanders."

"I might even offer you our side of the Throat, as well."


	13. The First March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's kinda short, so I'll be posting two today.

The queen seemed more withdrawn than usual; sometimes it was difficult to tell Byleth's moods. But as they climbed the foothills, Judith could sense there was something on her Majesty's mind, and her smiles were just a half a beat too slow after someone joked, gone too quickly from her face. Something happened at the monastery; she had asked Rashad, but all he did was shrug and mutter something about an argument he witnessed between the queen and some green-haired man in the market. Strange, that; Seteth was a frequent correspondent with Byleth, and she wondered what could have caused them to disagree.

The Daphnel forces, along with the mercenaries hired by the king, had met them just before the climb really began in earnest. There was a surprise there, too; she recognized the Fraldarius boy and the white-haired Ordelia as they rode beside the queen at the fore of the Gloucester forces. It seemed everything had fallen into place quite tidily, including the mobilization of the Knights of Seiros. "Two days behind, at best," Byleth said, her expression even more grim that usual.

"We're about a day off from the Locket," Judith commented on the third day. With any luck, they could be inside the fortress by nightfall to wait for the Knights.

"It will be good to be indoors again," Ordelia said in that clipped tone of hers. "I hate sleeping on the ground."

"Next time I'll pack more blankets," Fraldarius murmured. "Were you warm enough, at least?"

She smiled at him and reached to touch. He flushed. "Yes, thank you."

The queen smiled. "Holst is a generous man, and I'm sure Khalid and Sylvain will push him into even more excess than necessary."

A huff from the Fraldarius boy as he helped Ordelia onto their horse. "I can't believe I agreed to this. If I had known that bastard-"

"That's enough, Felix." He quieted at the mage's snapping tone as he mounted behind her. "After the war you can grouse all you like."

The air was cool in the mountains; winter would be here before they knew it. If this war was not over quickly, they might have to winter on the wrong side of the Throat. Judith considered saying it aloud to see if the queen would color, but thought better of it. There was enough on Byleth's mind without thoughts of her wayward king confounding it all. Slowly the company picked up the march, and they began to climb.

At least their battalions were well prepared; Judith felt a fluttering of pride as she glanced back to the group marching in formation, pennants snapping in the breeze. At the very least, they would not embarrass themselves in front of the Almyrans. If the queen was distracted, that would sort itself in battle; if anything, a fight would be sure to clear her head.

The broke at midday to eat, something quick and cold passed through the troop. The mounted troops slid off from their horses to tend to their needs as well. The Ordelia girl had a point in that they all needed a break indoors. Judith was not as young as she once was, and felt every mile of this march in her hips.

"If we really push, we might even hit the Locket by nightfall," Pinelli said as she looked east. "I can see the towers from here."

"It's a winding path from here, and we need to get all the troops in together. Tomorrow will be fine." Judith shrugged. "If your company wants to go on ahead, you're welcome to."

"We just might." She grinned. "I am looking forward to a hot meal and a drink at the end of this."

Suddenly there was a trill from Rashad's wyvern above, and the Almyran began to race through the sky toward another wyvern rider who approached from the east. Metal glinted in the sun as they clashed, once, twice, and they came apart and floated with beating wings. Judith looked at her Majesty; Byleth's mouth was drawn tight into a frown as the riders began their descent in lazy circles over the company, and as soon they landed the queen walked forward, eyes on the rider from the east. "Khalid, why are you here?"

"Just needed to get out and stretch my legs. Sylvain and Holst have the preparations in hand, so when the guards saw your company approach, I thought I'd come be the welcoming committee." He grinned wide. "Quite the surprise, yes? I have to keep up with my schemes somehow, even if they are small."

Byleth kept walking, right into his arms. She clung to his shoulders, her hands clenched into the padded fabric until her knuckles were white. Judith felt her heart drop as the queen's body shook in silent sobs. The king held still for a long moment, and then enfolded her gently. His lips moved against her ear, but she couldn't catch the words. The queen nodded, and her fingers flexed, burrowing deep into his shirt. He looked up at Judith. "Take the troops on. We'll catch up." With a few short commands, the troop moved on past the king and queen. One last look back; the queen's head still buried in the king's chest, he watched the battalions pass with a placid expression.


	14. Duty, Crests, and Felix Fraldarius

"Tell me what she said again." It was evening; they would be on the Locket tomorrow. Byleth and Khalid sat apart from the rest of the commanders at their own small fire. If everyone wanted to pretend it was deference to royalty, Byleth would take that grace after she had sobbed like a child in front of the entire army. At least after her shameful display, they had come to an unspoken agreement, and all their secrecy had been put to bed at last.

She tossed him a teasing glare. "The conversation won't change no matter how many times I tell you."

He took her hand. "She didn't say you had a heart of your own before."

A sigh. "I don't think I will never know the truth. Only Rhea knows, and she will never tell me to protect herself." She caressed the callouses on his fingers. How many arrows would he have to string before they truly had peace? 

"Well, we can always count on the church to have plenty of secrets to uncover." He shook his head. "Perhaps I should have never left Fodlan and spent the rest of my days digging through the Garreg Mach library."

She smiled; even now, he thought she could be fooled by his grandiose comments. "Your heart has always belonged to Almyra."

"My heart has been stolen from there by a star." A kiss on her knuckles, and Khalid looked into her eyes. "If Rhea had not done what she did, we may have never met, and that would be the grandest tragedy of all."

If she had a heart, it would have fluttered, and he knew that if his grin was anything to go by. She teased, "You've spent too long in Margrave Gautier's company as of late. When we reach the Locket and I find Governor Goneril making eyes at me-"

He choked out a laugh. "The thought of Holst flirting as shamelessly as Sylvain-"

"Disgusting." Byleth startled and looked toward Lysithea, who plopped down beside them. "The world only needs one Sylvain Gautier."

Khalid chuckled. "I don't think anyone will ever match him for turn of phrase when it comes to romance, that much is certain."

Byleth considered the mage; this close, she could see the darkening of skin under her eyes, artfully hidden by makeup for the most part. Lysithea held out her hands to warm them on the campfire, and they trembled slightly. _She doesn't have much longer._ Byleth felt her throat prickle at the thought; when had she swallowed thorns? "Where's Felix?" She had encountered them on her way to Gloucester territory in some nameless village she and Rashad landed in for the night. Had it been fate or chance? Not even the Goddess knew.

A huff. "Attacking a tree. He's being a child about Sylvain, and wanted to turn around to go home."

"He and Sylvain didn't part on good terms," Byleth murmured in a soothing sort of way.

Another huff. "Ridiculous."

"If anyone can talk his way out of Felix's anger, it's Sylvain." Khalid leaned back to look up at the stars. "Perhaps if Rodrigue had allowed Felix to take Glenn's place as Ingrid's fiancé, he wouldn't have been so resentful."

Lysithea turned her head and stared at the king, who continued to watch the stars, uncaring about the glare directed his way. "What?"

Byleth sighed. "When Felix's brother passed away, it would have been customary for the new heir of Fraldarius to be offered to Galatea as a replacement fiancé. Faerghus customs are particular about these sort of alliances." She shrugged. "But for whatever reason, Rodrigue declined to present Felix as a suitable match for Ingrid."

The mage said nothing for a long moment, and then said, "Glenn didn't have a Crest. Felix told me. He shouldn't have been the heir to Fraldarius after Felix was born, but because he was so noble, Rodrigue made the match with Galatea."

Still staring at the sky, Khalid murmured, "Felix always had a soft spot for Ingrid, even if he didn't love her the way a fiancé or husband ought. He had prepared himself to marry her to keep the alliance intact, but then his father betrayed Galatea. At least, in Felix's eyes he did."

"Why do these things have to be so complicated? Who cares who marries who, and if the Crests all die out? They should for all the troubles they cause." Lysithea shuddered in her anger, her voice rising sharply. "There's no point to it all, anyway-" a strangled noise fell from her lips, and Byleth reached out just as the mage's shuddering grew more violent, her back arched to what looked to be a painful angle. Eyelids fluttered, eyes moved without seeing. She heard Khalid stand and say something about finding Felix before he dashed off. Byleth hummed as the mage fell against her, still panting heavily. A soft surge, and she felt the ills subside slightly as the healing magic passed from her fingertips to Lysithea. 

It did not take long for Khalid to return with Felix in his wake, racing through the company. "She's all right now, I think," Byleth said on seeing Felix's paling expression. "I used some magic to soothe her."

He took the mage into his arms, her tiny form cradled against his chest. A rush in the air, and she felt him weaving his own rudimentary healing; so much the better, he was clearly more used to this situation than she. "This happens when she gets too emotional, stupid girl," he muttered even as his hand stroked her face. "She'll sleep for awhile now, so I'll take her to our tent." Without waiting for an answer, he stood with Lysithea in his arms and walked away.

Khalid put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. The thorns seemed to recede at the comfort of his touch. "Small mercies that he knows she's not long for this world. He's seen too much death come unexpectedly in his life already," he said softly in her ear. "I'm surprised you were able to convince him to bring her along."

Byleth settled against him, enjoying the solid warmth of his body against her back. "She's the one who insisted on coming. I think Felix had truly meant to put up his sword until she passed." Would her death be the one to push him over the edge and make him as mad as Dimitri, talking to shades as he roamed, cutting a path of death of his own making?

"You're thinking morbid thoughts, my dearest." He kissed her shoulder and laced their fingers together on her lap. "We should go to bed soon, as well. Tomorrow we've got more duties to attend than there is enough time for, and you'll needs your wits about you to follow Holst and Sylvain's arguing."

"They're not getting along?" That worried her; she needed the Goneril and Gloucester forces to listen to Gautier on the field.

"Oh, no, when they're not in front of a map, they're the best of friends, getting drunk and talking about Goddess knows what. But in the strategy meetings, they can hardly go two words without haggling over how many pegasi feathers will be allowed to drop on the battlefield." She snorted at his exaggeration, and he squeezed her tighter. "Come to bed, before more gloomy thoughts can invade." His lips tickled her ear. She shivered, and agreed to follow him into their tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my headcanon that Glenn didn't have a Crest, I hope you enjoy your stay.


	15. To Win a War

Hilda greeted them as the combined Fodlan and mercenary army marched into Fodlan's Throat in the late morning. "Byleth, you have to do _something_ ," she said by way of greeting. "Sylvain and Holst have been up all night arguing about tactics, and my brother got so angry he-" she cut herself off as something caught her eye. "Lysithea? You're here? With _Felix_?"

"Shut up," Felix hissed even as he helped Lysithea from their horse. "And if we can get rooms where I never have to see that stupid face of his-"

"Who?"

"Sylvain," Khalid supplied helpfully as he took Byleth's hand. Hilda's eyebrows were lost in her hairline at that, but she would save the teasing for later. "Can you make sure everyone gets settled, and we'll see if we can calm the two of them before we have another war on our hands." One last pat on Qadir's flank, they went inside.

They heard Sylvain and Holst before they even got close to the door of the war room. "Oh, Goddess bless it, if you put the pegasi there, they'll be in direct fire of where we expect the Almyran archers to approach," Holst shouted.

"But if we don't put them there, then our mages will be exposed without flight support. And we can't put Khalid's wyverns there, because we want to lure the rebel army on the other side of field so the Fodlan forces can flank!"

Khalid knocked; in reply, "The pegasi should be in reserve in the keep!"

Byleth opened the door with a sigh; the two commanders were on opposite sides of the map, red faced from shouting. They both looked up with startled faces, and there was a surprise; one of Sylvain's eyes had been blackened. He scrambled to his feet to bow in their direction, but his words seemed to have failed him as the queen walked forward and took his chin in hand. Khalid held his breath; there was danger in the air. "Governor Goneril, did you punch Margrave Gautier over battle tactics?" He knew that voice; rarely did she speak like a disappointed professor anymore, but the tone was enough to make his hair stand on end.

"I, well, your Majesty." He stammered and fell silent at her raised eyebrow in his direction. Here it was; Khalid was already on the move. Back in their academy days, her favorite punishment for such fights between classmates was to make them train with her to the brink of exhaustion, and that was the last thing they needed at the moment.

He stopped at the most unexpected noise. Her laugh started as a low chuckle, and then increased in pitch and fervor until she was hiccuping giggles. She shook her head to dispel them, and they were gone as quickly as they came. Sylvain released, and he sat down, a bemused look thrown at Khalid, who only shrugged. Byleth paced around the map, studying the tokens on it. She pointed. "Is this a cliff?"

"Yes, your Majesty." Holst cleared his throat. "We thought it best to keep our forces away from it, despite-" He stopped as she swept up a set of tokens and with a deft hand, rearranged the map. Sylvain and Holst leaned forward; Khalid crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to grin. Brilliant as always. "That," Goneril said at last, licking his lips furiously, "That will work, your Majesty."

She smiled, a small soft smile that Khalid knew to be Byleth and none other. "You did well enough. A shave and bed for the both of you. We've a long march starting in the next couple days."

"Your Majesty." Gautier helped Holst to his feet and together they left the war room.

She looked to Khalid, her eyes still twinkling in amusement. "My dear, does this map accommodate your scheming?"

He came to stand by her, one arm slung casually across her hips as he examined it. "I'm sure I can come up with something. The only ace I really have is you."

"I'm sure you can figure something out before we reach the fortress. It is still a two week march, provided we don't get bogged down in the snow on the way." A frown. "We should perhaps make sure that Felix and Sylvain are on opposite sides of the formation. It's dangerous enough with the infantry so close to the cavalry."

"If we get bogged down, so will the opposing army." He tapped the map and ran a finger down a ravine. "Pity we can't lure them into the ravine here, it's too far from the fortress so they wouldn't be interested in any troops positioned there."

"Perhaps we could put the Knights of Seiros there in reserve." She leaned forward and traced a line. "Is this a path to the field?"

"We can confirm with Kadija, but I believe so." He watched her; she was the loveliest in these moments, so intent on her thoughts. "Even so, we could put the Cichol Wyvern Corps there to provide support on that flank."

A knock came on the door, and Hilda's head poked into the room. "You're still at it, even without Holst and Sylvain? Claude, you can't keep the queen all to yourself. Marianne wants to visit."

"Khalid." He looked at Byleth, surprised to see her frown. "His name is Khalid, not Claude."

Half a beat, and Hilda actually inclined her head. "As your Majesty requests."

He waved a hand. "Let her change into something more comfortable, and I suppose I can spare her for an afternoon. If it pleases her Majesty, that is." Byleth nodded with her mouth still in that tight line. Hilda disappeared again, the door shut with a soft click. "I don't mind it all that much, you know."

She looked at him askance, and then back on the map. "When this over, no one will forget that the King of Almyra and the King Consort of Fodlan are one and the same. That is how we win this war." Her lips pressed against his cheek, soft and tender. She slipped from his arms, and he stared at the map while he listened to the sounds of her boots against the stone floor. He didn't move until he heard the soft click of the door. Once he was sure he was alone, he sank into a chair at last, feeling more than a little weak. It started slow, welling up from somewhere at the base of his ribcage and bubbled up until he covered his face with his hands, feeling a sudden sharp sob burst. What a fool he had been to stay so far away from his queen.


	16. Glowing

She had changed out of her armor and into the soft set of robes she had grown fond of over the last few years and joined the ladies in Hilda's apartments; Lysithea was there as well, Felix notedly not. She wondered if that was Hilda's doing, as Marianne lacked the forceful spirit required to keep Fraldarius in check. Leonie was absent as well, more than likely exploring the castle kitchens for something stronger than tea and cake.

"Your Majesty." Marianne came forward when Byleth was announced, her voice still stuttering and soft; even with her confidence growing as Margravine Edmund, some habits were still hard to break. "Will you bless me?"

She smiled, and Marianne ceased her stuttering. Byleth took her hands and then bent forward to kiss her forehead. "The Goddess will always watch over you, dear."

"If that's how the goddess blesses, I suppose his Majesty is blessed every day he's with the queen," Hilda smirked over her teacup as Byleth felt her cheeks burn.

Lysithea snorted. "He needs more blessing than anyone else alive."

Even Marianne laughed at that comment, even if she chided, "That's not a nice thing to say. He's a good leader, even if he does have some eccentric opinions."

Byleth smiled; though she still stuttered, it was nice to see her give an opinion. "Marianne, how long will you be staying in the Locket?"

"Oh, well, I usually spend the winter here with Hilda, but since she's going with the campaign, I thought perhaps I could go, too."

Hilda shrugged at the raised eyebrow Byleth directed at her. "Someone has to help my brother. The rest of you will be afield, and so Marianne can stay with us and help the other healers in the fortress." They shared a smile, and Byleth saw more than the smile there; ah, this was the reason Holst could not step aside for Hilda. At least she knew now and had enough time to come up with alternatives for the Edmund territory once Marianne had passed. By then, she would have had enough influence to increase the number of capable commoners enrolled at Garreg Mach, and could find a suitable replacement among their ranks. But that would be many years from now.

"I'm surprised that Lorenz isn't here. Wouldn't it be better to have an Alliance lord to control the Goneril troops?" Lysithea interjected. She was sharp, but tactics had never been her strong suit.

A smile. "He went south with Governor Aegir and Lord Gaspard to assist with a situation in Brigid. We had hoped to bring Sylvain's troops east with him, but we didn't have the time to rally them in wintertime. The snow comes early to that region."

"Ugh, do we have to talk about this?" Hilda affected a bored look. "I've had enough of listening to tactics. Lysithea, what's the deal with you and Felix?"

Lysithea shrugged. "I don't know what you mean by that. He was passing through the village where I live, and we got to talking, and he just stayed." Was that a blush? But then her smile turned wicked. "Can you believe he eats _cake_?"

Hilda blinked several times. "I'm sorry, I think you've broken me, Lysithea. Or you broke Felix, I'm not sure." Marianne giggled. "Did you put a spell on him? He once told me crabapples were too sweet."

A knock on the door, and an attendant entered with a bow. "Apologies, but the king requested the queen come at once."

Hilda puffed out her cheeks. "He can't even spare her an hour?"

"There's, ah, something unusual on the eastern horizon."

Marianne's voice was soft. "Perhaps we could all go. Where is his Majesty?"

"On the parapet, where the tethers are." Byleth thanked the attendant and dismissed her with a wave of her hand. 

The ladies followed in her wake, and she felt a strange fluttering of her heart as they climbed the steps to the parapet. Khalid was there with Felix as they looked east. The king smiled as they approached; Felix continued to scowl. "What's this about, Khalid?"

"Our tea will be cold by the time we get back, so this better be good," Hilda whined. In response, he pointed east.

Byleth looked in the direction of his arm; far in the distance, despite the sun being behind them to set west, a warm glow emanated from one spot near the horizon. "That's Kadija's fortress."

"Glowing."

"Yes."

Byleth leaned forward against the stone, as if the few inches it gained her could allow her to see better. "I assume this just began today."

"Or was just noticed. Ah, thank you." She turned; Rashad had joined them, and he handed Khalid a long metal tube with a curved piece of glass at the widest end. "Rashad is a sailor, you see, and invented this spyglass to better see during naval battles."

"Wait, you're Rashad? Rashad the Scourge of the East Seas?" Hilda blinked. "You look different than the stories we were told as kids."

Then she laughed. "But I suppose my father also used to say that Nader had scars in the shape of skulls all over his arms to mark all the Goneril soldiers he killed."

He laughed with her. "Of course the Gonerils would tell such stories, not that we mind the reputations. I've scared my children into behaving by telling them Governor Goneril sleeps under their beds and gobbles up difficult Almyran children."

Khalid chuckled as he peered eastward through the glass. "Holst would never fit under an Almyran bed." He handed the device to Byleth. "I think it would be best if we depart tomorrow morning, as early as we can."

She looked; the glow glimmered and distorted the air around it, that much was obvious even from this distance. Magic, and powerful magic at that. _Cethleann_. "Yes." She cleared her throat. It was midday now, and she considered the options. "When it's evening, wake Goneril and Gautier so we can have one last council with all the generals." She handed the spyglass back to Rashad. "Khalid, we should leave a letter for Seteth." He held out his arm, and she took it and allowed him to lead her back to their rooms.


	17. Some Long Overdue Conversations

Supper was held in the war room. There wasn't much to discuss, really; despite all the years between wars, the group listened to Byleth by instinct now. Instead, they fell into a soft lull of conversation once the map had been scrutinized and everyone understood their roles. Khalid watched the scene before him in quiet contentment; tomorrow would be the start of a long march, and he wanted to savor this moment of peace as long as they could.

Hilda fixed Sylvain with a stare almost as soon as the war talk trailed off. "It's been three days since you arrived, and I haven't heard anything about your children."

He swallowed, a smile spread wide on his lips. A hand reached into his jacket, and carefully folded parchments were revealed. He opened them and pushed them closer to the women, who leaned in. "This one is Caspar our oldest, and Hugo, he's a year younger." Khalid looked at Felix when he flinched. "I don't have a drawing of the baby yet. Next time Ignatz is in Gautier territory, I'll have him sketch her as well." He laughed, beaming. "Not a single Crest on any of them."

"They're beautiful." Lysithea smiled and bent to look closer at the sketches. Felix continued to frown, pointedly ignoring the conversation.  


Sylvain glowed; Khalid would be a liar if he didn't feel a twinge of jealousy. "Thank the Goddess they look like Thea, even if Hugo acts more like me."

"I don't think the Goddess had much to do with that, Sylvain," Byleth said, her tone mild, but there was the faintest shadow of a smile. Khalid snorted, and the laughter rippled down the table; even Marianne giggled with her face aflame. "Did Ingrid like the ribbons I sent?"

A fist hit the table; Khalid didn't need to look to know it was Felix. Sylvain, however, did look, and there was a brittle silence as they stared at each other. And then Felix stood, so sudden his chair toppled over, and he stormed out of the room. There was a pause, and Lysithea stood as if to follow him, stopped only by Sylvain's hand on her arm. "No, I'll go. He'll keep avoiding me until I do." And he followed, squaring his shoulders as he went.

"Well, I think it's a sweet name," Hilda declared, still looking at the sketches on the table. "Who would have thought Sylvain and Dorothea would be the most domestic of all of us?"

The talk moved to the others and their lives; Hilda's jewelry business, Lysithea's baking. Marianne had a box at Mittelfrank, and shyly invited anyone to use it; "I don't make it to Enbarr very often," she stuttered only a little. Leonie told them about the mercenary life, her tales decidedly more embellished than any Khalid had managed to pry out of Byleth. Holst kept the drinks and platters full while he talked to Judith about political matters, ever the generous host.

His eyes kept returning to the sketches of the Gautier children; he and Byleth had never talked about those things, and he felt a strange sensation that perhaps they should. He was unsure if she could even carry a child; but then again, her mother did, and she was more human than the nun had been. The thought of children running around, his children, made him ache deep in his chest.

He felt a warm hand on his knee, and Byleth leaned closer. "You're not talking much."

"Is that so strange?" He laughed when she nodded. "I'm content to enjoy their conversation tonight, and to sit with you." He put his hand over hers, feeling all the familiar callouses and scars as they tangled their fingers together. "I'm thinking that perhaps we should consider some domestic concerns of our own." He nodded toward the drawings.

A squeeze on his knee, and her hand trailed higher. "We have a long march ahead, and it's not like we have to sneak around to keep up appearances, hm?" 

When had the room gotten so warm? He cleared his throat, and said softly, "Perhaps we should retire early. It is a terribly long march ahead, and nothing to sleep on but a travel cot."

"Horribly, awfully long." The conversation had slipped into a lively quarrel between Hilda and Holst with Lysithea and Judith taking sides with the siblings, Marianne distracted laughing at the repartee. There was no better opportunity, and so he stood, tugging on her hand.

Their rooms were well tended, the fire ablaze in the hearth, just started. Byleth shooed the attendants away with a wave of her royal hand. "We're not to be disturbed until morning. Unless Margrave Gautier gets stabbed. I will need to know if that happens," she added almost as an afterthought. Khalid chuckled at the attendants' startled faces, but they left all the same with murmurs of assent.

Alone, he felt a strange awkwardness as they began to remove cloaks and boots, not speaking. Those years when they were in middle of war, they had crept around to avoid detection; secretly lovers, and then secretly married, it was almost obscene to be able to kiss in public, to know the others knew they were sharing a bed. It made him feel almost shy almost as their eyes met. "My star, I-"

She kissed him and their bodies crushed. He enjoyed every sensation of her, from the firmness of her battle-hardened muscles under his hands to the tickling of her fingertips on his ears and neck as she touched. She made a noise, a vulnerable little whine as he withdrew slightly, and she chased him, teeth on his lower lip just the way he liked.

Once they were gasping and breathless, she pulled away only far enough away to press her forehead to his. "We can't keep regretting what has happened," she whispered. "We can only move forward. If things could be different, _she_ would have done so."

He laughed. "The last thing I expected when I came to Fodlan was to be so interested in the whims of the progenitor god." He kissed her again, her face cupped in his hands. "How do you always know what I'm feeling?"

"Years of experience." Byleth's eyes were emeralds in the firelight; he thought about the gem in Hilda's care, and he thought about Rhea in Shambala. Dragon's eyes. Had the first Almyran king, the one who had found the jewel and given it to the woman he adored, had he known? "No more talk, we have more important things to be doing now." And she kissed him quite firmly; Khalid couldn't find a complaint in it as she pulled him to the bed.


	18. The Saint's True Form

If Kadija had not seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn't have believed it. The rebel army had reached their gates a week and a half, bogged down by a blizzard early in their march; she had hoped it would deter them from continuing, but scouts saw them on the move two days after the snow had settled. Flayn was woken, and with a few short instructions, they brought her to the courtyard, still yawning. "Are you sure about this?"

Flayn smiled. "Quite. Now, before we begin," she dug into a pocket and handed Kadija a pile of sugar cubes. "Take Alemarmar and bring her to Claude." Kadija blinked, and Flayn waved her hand. "Quickly, because once I start no one will be able to leave."

She was in flight when she heard the roaring; she turned Alemar to look. There, in the courtyard where she had left the girl, a sight that made Kadija suck in her breath; a dragon, its black scales glimmering in the sunlight. A roar of spellcraft, and suddenly they were buffeted by a surge of wind. A glimmering magical barrier expanded with the dragon at its center, and soon it covered the entire fortress. Just who was this strange little girl?

It was only a day's travel until she came on the Fodlan army on their march east. She paused over the company to look; it was an impressive enough company, she had to admit. Khalid must truly be loved in Fodlan to rally this much support in such short a time. Him, or his queen. She was curious about the woman who could tame her king.

A delighted trill from Alemarmar was her only warning before the wyvern dove, wings tucked back to gain speed, heedless of Kadija's tug on the reins or her knees pressing against Alemar's scales. But it wasn't Khalid that made Alemar lose her senses, but a woman with that queer green hair and eyes, so much like Flayn. The woman dismounted from her horse as they landed. "Marmar, my darling girl," she cooed as her hands reached for her snout. Then her eyes found Kadija's. "Who are you?"

"You're here?" She looked up at the voice; Khalid and Rashad had landed and dismounted. "My dearest, may I introduce you to Kadija, Nader's daughter? Kadija, this is Byleth, queen of all Fodlan."

The queen bowed as Kadija slid from Alemar; the wyvern had finally stopped trembling with excitement at the sight of the queen and king. "I had great respect for your father."

"Thank you." She wanted to say something about how her father held the queen in high esteem, but there was something very strange about the queen that made Kadija hold her tongue.

"Maybe we should-Alemar, enough!" Khalid muttered as the wyvern's nose bumped against his side again. He patted her neck. "I know, I missed you, too." A trill, and he laughed as the wyvern nuzzled her face against his stomach. "Perhaps we should call it an early day. I'm sure the soldiers would appreciate it."

"I'll let the Gonerils know, and we can stop the company for the night." Rashad was already mounting Reza, and Byleth inclined her head as permission.

Camp was done up efficiently; if anything, at least the Fodlan forces knew how to pitch tents and dig latrines. No one slacked in their duties, right down to the youngest squire gathering kindling in the scrub brush. Once the command tent had been pitched, however, she followed Khalid and Byleth inside. There, the Fodlan commanders had gathered; tanned Daphnel, the redheaded Gautier, Pinelli for the mercenaries, and the Gonerils. She was most curious about these last two, in particular Holst Goneril. His hair and eyes were the color of peonies, he was tall but more slender than she expected; even seated he was taller than the rest of the company. They sat with the others. "Tell us, is that light Flayn?"

Kadija cleared her throat. "She turned into a dragon, and then the fortress was suffused in that light. I took Alemarmar before she changed."

Daphnel sucked in a breath. "A dragon?"

"Like Lady Rhea when-" Gautier didn't finish the thought as the queen frowned. "Apologies."

"No, I want to hear this. You know something, don't you?" Daphnel's eyes narrowed, and she pointed at Khalid. "You've got that look like you're keeping secrets. What do you know, boy?"

He spread his hands wide in a gesture of innocence. "I do know more than I'm saying, but they're not my secrets."

"That doesn't matter now," Lady Goneril said with a petulant huff. "Is she going to be all right?" 

The question hung in the air, and then, to Kadija's surprise, Khalid looked to the queen and said, "Could she tell us what will happen to Flayn?"

Her lips were pursed, and then something changed in her face, the calm, clear eyed queen replaced with another creature with a haughty sneer on her lips. A subtle difference, but perhaps it was something else as well, a feeling that made every hair on Kadija's body stand up. "It is a dangerous thing to transform. One loses most of their reason and becomes a beast. Sometimes, they may never be able to return to their other form. But the little one is half human and has always been more capable of returning to herself than her father and uncles. She may be safe, despite it."

Khalid smiled and took her hand. "Thank you."

"Hmph. Take care, silly man, how often you call me. With every moment I am in control, your dearest love disappears. I intend to let her have as much time with you as she can." And then the haughty look was gone, replaced once again with a steady stoicism. She looked at Khalid's hand holding hers, a faint smile coming to her lips. "Sothis likes you."

The redheaded Gautier let out a long breath, and then chuckled. "I don't think any of us will ever get used to that." Then he leaned back with a thoughtful look. "I don't think there's much else we can do but start the march again as early as we can."

It was agreed, and the commanders began to stand. Kadija watched as Khalid and Lady Goneril took each of Lord Goneril's hands and helped him to his feet and then as he slung an arm over his sister's shoulders. Holst's eyes met hers, and he smiled, abashed. "You're surprised, but I would have rather have died than to have your father know what happened to his most esteemed enemy." His sister snorted in derision. "It's true, Hilda. I enjoyed our rivalry and it would have been an anti-climatic end to the years we crossed swords for me to be crippled by another."

"How did you know Nader was my father?"

"You have the same eyes." They fell into step together; she noticed he could walk somewhat, but his legs were at odd angles with one another and the ground. "Perhaps I should have told him, but we thought it best to keep my condition secret from as many as we could."   


The commanders were splitting off from each other; Gautier and Daphnel were deep in conversation with Pinelli, the King and Queen alone at another fire. "You should join us," Lady Goneril said. "My brother always likes having company." She had no objections; she didn't feel it right to interrupt Khalid and Byleth, and there would be more opportunities to speak to Khalid on the trip. 

"Will your friend Marianne be joining us?" Holst said as Hilda helped him sit on the ground by an unoccupied fire.

Hilda shook her head. "She and Lysithea have been discussing magical theory all afternoon, and I have no interest trying to make conversation with Felix. Have you talked to him? Unless you're a sword, you might as well be invisible."

In all, it wasn't an unpleasant evening, despite the circumstances. The fires were well-tended, the warmth welcome against the bitter chill on their backs. There was a bit of commotion when Alemar, somehow free of her tether, walked across the camp heedless of anything in her way and came to curl herself around Khalid and his queen, both who cooed and laughed at the wyvern's insistence of being near. The food was hot and filling, and Kadija was content to listen to the Goneril siblings fuss over one another. It made her miss her own siblings and the pell-mell squabbling that had filled her childhood. The youngest still fought like that, the rambling run ons that only siblings could muster.

Soon, they came on the end of the night. Hilda had disappeared to find Marianne, and it was just Holst. She felt very sleepy and full, on the edge of nodding off. He seemed to be of the same condition, and yawned into the back of his hand, staring into the dwindling fire. "You know, I held your father in the highest esteem."

"Thank you," she said. "He always talked about what a great warrior you were."

He chuckled. "I'm sure he did. I pity that we could not have been friends for longer than we were." Then, a frown, and she thought she could see a blush; no, surely that was only the firelight. "Were you able to lay him to rest in his home?"

"I...yes, Khalid brought him back." How it had ached to see his body taken from Qadir's back, carried by his men to his final resting place; the last flight of Nader the Undefeated.

"I-I'm not sure if this is impolite in Almyra, but sometime while we are there, I would like to pay my proper respects to him."  
She swallowed. "Of course, Lord Goneril."

A laugh; she liked the way he laughed, and she realized that this was perhaps the first time she had seen him smile in a genuine way. She had been friends with Khalid for so long, she could spot a false smile in an instant. "Your father never, not once, called me Lord anything, so to hear you say it," he shook his head, still laughing. "Just call me Holst. I'm lord in name only, anyway."

Now she understood his grief; a crippled man was no good in a fight, but Fodlan tradition demanded an heir from him. The realization of his grief made her painfully awake. "Tell me about the Nader you knew."

He glanced at her, then away into the fire again. "I have more stories about your father than I could tell in one night."

"It is a long march, and we will have many nights."

There was that real smile again. "So we will."


	19. To Be Wed to a Goddess

Another delay came the following morning; the Knights of Seiros sent a messenger, being only half a day behind, and they asked the queen's army to hold position so they could join forces. Byleth sent back a message of assent, and the army enjoyed a leisurely morning of breaking camp. So much the better; at this pace they would reach Kadija's fortress before Cethleann's spell waned, and that meant Holst would be exposed and defenseless on the field.

Khalid was content to watch with the other commanders as the queen received the Knights, Alois and Seteth at the forefront. Seteth dismounted and handed a page the reins. They spoke, but he heard none of the words. Alois laughed at something Byleth said, and then Seteth reached into his coat. A letter produced, taken by Byleth and tucked away before he could really get a good look. Curious. He would ask her later, when they were alone. There really could only be one person that would have sent a letter on, and the thought of its contents made him repress a shiver. 

Alois said something else, his face strange; Khalid had never seen the man look quite so serious, almost reverential. He watched as Byleth took Alois' face in her hands and kissed his forehead in blessing. A bow, a nod, and Byleth turned around and walked back to the waiting commanders. "The Knights will join our infantry units," she said to Holst and Sylvain, who nodded. "Seteth and his flight battalion will take scout positions for the march. When we reach the fortress, we will discuss further our course of action with the flight battalions, as it will depend on if the king's warriors will be available." Nods all around, and she smiled. "Well, let's march."

The day passed as days during a campaign were wont to do. Khalid flew in lazy circles with the other wyvern riders, high over the crawling train of the army. Byleth rode at the head of the column flanked by Sylvain and Judith. They made a pretty picture with the Crest of Flames banner whipping in the chill mountain breeze overhead, looking like something out of Ashe's tales of chivalry.

The sun dipped low and threatened to disappear before the march halted, and with a sounding of a horn, the flying troops began their descent. He ached for a hot bath as Alemarmar's feet hit earth and he slid from the saddle. "After this, darling," he murmured to Alemar as she allowed herself to be tethered and tack removed, "you and I will take a nice long rest from flying, I promise you that." She trilled in delight as he caressed her scales in his search for any issues caused by her tack. "I missed you terribly, though." He dug into a pocket for sugar cubes, and surreptitiously slipped them into her mouth lest the other wyverns catch wind of her treat. "She likes goat," he said to the squires who moved forward with the haunches of meat to feed. "If not that, then sheep." One last pat to her snout. "Behave, Alemar." This she would probably ignore, but at least he attempted to impose some sort of discipline on the creature.

Finding Byleth was no trouble; speaking to her would prove to be more difficult. A throng of soldiers, Seiros Knights all, surrounded the queen. One by one, they came forward and spoke a few words. Then Byleth acted that same strange ritual he had seen between her and Alois, and took each soldier's face in her hands and kissed their forehead in benediction. It was a strangely moving sight, even if he couldn't help feel a twinge of jealousy at the sight and sounds of the blissful petitioners following their blessing. After all, that was his beloved in that body, too, and perhaps some of the faithful were a bit too eager to be kissed.

He heard a chuckle, and turned to see Seteth watching the scene. "Don't worry yourself too much about it, your Majesty," he said. "You have to remember, the last time the progenitor god walked on earth, she only had her children to bless."

"I'm not worried about her running away after one kiss," he replied, feeling a smile despite himself as she bent over to bless a young page who appeared to be hardly seven years old. "I am concerned that this might be tiring for her."

Seteth stepped closer so they could speak in lower tones. "You mean you're concerned that the goddess will take over that body." Khalid nodded, and Seteth sighed. "I wish for a lot of things, but I mostly wish that letter contains the full explanation of our dear queen's origins and future. If Rhea intends to keep her silence forever, I cannot approve of that decision."

"And here I thought you were always on the side of Saint Seiros."

"Goddess, no." He shook his head with a rueful laugh. "Some of her methods are certainly questionable, and we've had a great many quarrels over the years, especially when it was in regards to my wife." A pause. "So, I suppose I understand a bit of how you feel."

They watched the scene for a bit longer, and then a stray thought came to him. "Seteth, I'm sorry I put Flayn in danger."

"No, the fault is entirely mine. Such a small thing to let her go visit her friends, and yet I couldn't bring myself to do it."

Khalid put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Let's get supper and strategize on the best way to rescue Byleth should she still be at this after we've eaten."

"A likely outcome." They turned and reviewed the commanders; Marianne found a place with the Gonerils and Kadija, the four of them making a charming picture. Hilda was even bold enough to put a hand on Marianne's arm while she teased Holst. Felix and Sylvain were together talking; Lysithea looked bored at their conversation, but even she understand the importance of holding her tongue while the two mended their fractured relationship. "Judith looks like she needs company that is not Alois," Seteth murmured as they approached. He agreed with a laugh; Alois was indeed dominating a conversation between himself and the Hero of Daphnel. Khalid was more than willing to save anyone from that fate, so they joined the conversation with as much patience as Khalid could muster in this situation. It wasn't unpleasant, but the prickling thoughts about the contents of the letter from the morning were of a persistent sort.

When the sun had fully disappeared behind the mountains and they were left with the fires and the ever growing gleam of spellcraft eastward for their light, a squire approached with a nervous bow. "Your Majesty, the queen, she, ah, well, she wanted to let you know she's retired for the night."

"I see. Did she eat?" The squire shrugged, and Khalid stood with a sigh. "Thank you." Seteth gave him a nod as a farewell, and he walked through camp to their tent. He paused only to pick a pair of noa fruits from the food stores; if she was feeling ill, her marked disinterest in eating tended to grow more prevalent.

Strange; the tent was buttoned closed at the flap, but he could see the dim glow of a lamp. "Dearest, may I come in?" She made a noise, and he heard the rustling of fabric as she undid the fastenings to allow him inside. 

She seemed to be in distress, having pulled her robe over her coat and armor. Boots were half unlaced, as if she had been in process and then forgot what she was doing. She looked at him with a blank expression, and then shook her head and looked away. "I just have an awful headache suddenly, and felt a faint coming on."

Khalid set the fruits on a chest and knelt before her on the ground. "Here." She allowed him to unlace her boots and put them to the side, and then he pulled the robe and coat from her shoulders. "You'd regret sleeping in your armor, we both have learned that from experience." She smiled, and allowed him to unfasten straps and loosen arm pieces without complaint. Next, her padded undertunic; he paused only a moment to appreciate his wife's nakedness before finding a soft shirt in her war chest to help her into. "Are you hungry?"

She shook her head, and then she put a hand on his cheek. "Khalid, I saw something horrible. I usually only see memories of the goddess in dreams, but I know I saw a memory of hers. I saw Nemesis take her body from the tomb, and felt it as he tore her to pieces." A small frown. "These memories always make my head spin."

"Do you want me to call for a healer? Marianne, perhaps?" She shook her head again, and he fell silent for several moments. On a whim, he took her face into his hands, enjoying the feel of her soft skin under his calloused fingers. He kissed her forehead with a smile. "There, now you've been blessed, too." She smiled back, and he sat beside her on the cot. She went willingly as he directed her to lay her head on his lap. Her hair caught slightly on his rough skin as he smoothed back her hair. "Are you sure I can't get you anything? I do have some medicines in my bag of tricks, you know."

A laugh; at least she could still do that. "I've seen how you label things, no thank you." They fell quiet again for a time, and then she reached into the pocket of her robe. She held out the letter embossed with the Seiros crest. "Would you read it?"

He took it gingerly, eyeing the seal with some suspicion. "Would you like me to read it to you, or just tell you the contents?"

She looked up at him, and reached out to caress his face, fingers trailing from his forehead to jaw in that gesture of affection she was so fond of. "I'm scared, my moon and sun," she whispered; rarely did she ever call him that. In fact, the last time he heard it was their wedding night after he called her Fell Star the first time. "Seteth said to me once that I might regret knowing all that Rhea has to tell. I said I still wanted to know back then, but now I wonder if it will do anything but hurt."

He looked at the letter again; it was several sheets thick. If Rhea was as ill as she claimed, it spoke to one of two possibilities: either she had been crafting this letter for some time, even before Byleth had come demanding answers; or she has sensed the need to exert herself to write such a long letter in such a short time following their conversation. Khalid watched her as she stared back at him. "I could burn it," he said carelessly, reaching for the lamp. She sucked in a breath as she watched him bring the letter closer to the flickering flame. "Then we wouldn't need to worry about what the contents are."

"No." He stopped and put the lamp down. "Perhaps right now isn't the best time to decide what to do." There was a new resolve in her eyes, and he could drown in those depths. What a queen he had found himself. "You keep it. When we win this war, that's when we will decide what to do."

"You trust me to keep it sealed until then?"

She shook her head. "Read it if you want. But I don't have interest in what Rhea has to say until I've seen Almyra for myself."

"Until Najafa, then." He set the letter aside and blew out the lamp. With some shifting, he lay beside her on the cot. Nose buried in her nape, he breathed in deep; there was a smell of the earth during the rain that always clung to her. "Even if you fade from that body before I die, I won't take another wife. I think there will always be something of Byleth in this body."

"I know." Her eyes closed. "Tell me about your home." He kissed her neck and obliged, talking about nothing in particular, just bits of things about Almyra, until her breathing evened out and her shouldered slackened. He kissed her again and waited for sleep to claim him as well.


	20. Allies, Friends

It was three days before Kadija came to her. Byleth felt the eyes on her and saw the quick turning away when she sought the source of that creeping feeling, but she let it alone. Some needed a gentle prodding, like Marianne and Ignatz, but Byleth got the sense to handle Kadija the way she would Felix or Hilda and let her come when she was ready to talk.

It was in one of those calm mornings Byleth enjoyed before most of the camp had stirred. Even Khalid slept still, even if he mumbled some sort of complaint as she untangled herself from their embrace. She pulled her brocade robe over her shoulders and crept out into the dawn light. The air was sharp with an icy chill, and she held her clothing closer with a shiver on her way to the tethers. She stopped only to pick two peaches from the food stores. One went into her pocket, the other she bit into, enjoying the feeling of the fuzzy skin soft on her tongue.

Pegasi knickered in sleep, wyverns snored; except one. Alemarmar trilled at the sight of her, soft and low as if she wished to keep the others asleep. "Hello, sweet." Yellow eyes closed as Byleth kissed the wyvern's snout. "I've missed you most of all. Even more than I missed Khalid, but we'll keep that between us, hrm?" She bit a piece from the peach and held it in her hands, only to be scooped by Marmar's black tongue.

"I'm surprised she's so attached to you. But again, she can probably smell Khalid on you." Kadija came to stand beside her own wyvern Qadir, still asleep. "She's a very possessive creature."

"I know." A nudge at her pocket, but she pushed the snout away gently. "Patience is a virtue." She watched as Kadija began to inspect her riding gear. She was struck by the poise of the woman there, her bearing, so much like Ingrid had been with all its business and blunt opinions. "He found her as a whelp, right?" A bite of peach for her, a bite for Marmar.

"Found wouldn't be the right word. She was born in the royal stables and her mother rejected her. He made himself sick fretting about her fate so much that his father relented and let her live, provided Khalid took care in feeding and training her himself." She shook her head with a laugh. "She slept in his bed the first year of her life, and when she got too large, he started sleeping at the tether ground with her until she adjusted. You can only imagine the jealousy of everyone when she grew into a mount fit for a king."

"He has always had a soft spot for those that are different."

Kadija's movement paused, but only for a moment. "He knows what it takes to survive when you don't quite fit in." She glanced, askance, and then asked the question that had hung between them for these last few days. "They say you're the Fodlan goddess come back to life." That particular title had become heavy since the Knights of Seiros had met up with the main force; being of a more pious bent than the other forces, a steady trickle of soldiers seeking blessing from the progenitor god approached her at all times from waking until bed. Just another reason she enjoyed these quiet mornings.

The woman still watched, and Byleth felt it best to play it lightly, as if she were Khalid. "Hrm, is that what they say?" She was full, and fed the last part of the first peach to Marmar, stone and all. She tapped her temple. "She's in here, but I am Byleth and she is Sothis. We share this body, but our thoughts and feelings are different."

There was an odd smile on Kadija's lips. "And which does my king love, I wonder."

Byleth met her eyes, careful to keep her face neutral. "That would be a question for Khalid. I can only speak for me."

"And so who loves my king, the goddess or the woman?"

She shrugged. "I love him, and the goddess finds him tolerable." Kadija snorted, and Byleth allowed herself a smile. "Khalid dislikes when things are not within his ability to control, and the goddess is decidedly not one of those things."

"I'm wounded, my Fell Star." Arms were around her waist, Khalid's lips on her cheek. How long had he been there, and how much had he heard? "Do you feel the breaking of my heart as you spill my secrets and lay me bare?"

"Good morning to you, too, dearest."

"Sneaking around and listening to secrets again, Khalid? I thought you outgrew that habit when you grew too tall to hide in my dowry chest," Kadija teased.

He put a hand on his chest as if struck. "You, too? Determined to grind my heart into powder, the both of you."

Kadija laughed. "Your heart has been made of steel for an age already. Don't let him fool you, your Majesty."

"I'm surrounded by traitors this morning, it seems. At least Alemar is on my side. Right, my darling?" He reached just as Byleth pulled the second peach from her pocket, and they both laughed as the wyvern ignored his outstretched hand in favor of the treat. He sighed, hands raised in surrender. "Traitors all."

"On the contrary, my king, I'm only fulfilling my promise to your esteemed parents to keep you humble."

Byleth smiled. "You've known him a long time, I take it." Khalid moved to Marmar to check her over before the day began and they had another long ride. She shivered at the loss of his warmth.

A snort. "Only our whole lives. Baba had been the childhood friend of Khalid's father and was his most staunch ally. I practically grew up in the palace with him."

"My first memory is Kadija and I being chased by the head cook for stealing pomegranates. I don't even remember how it started, my memory starts with us running away." Alemar trilled in protest. "I know, dearest, you've never liked your wings checked."

Kadija shook her head. "I remember it quite clearly. You convinced me to run into the kitchen ahead of you, but when I turned around to leave, you had never left the doorway." She huffed, but there was a smile on her face. "My only consolation was that you were also punished when we were caught."

It felt good to laugh like this, and she felt a warmth in Kadija's smile; they would be friends in short order. "Perhaps tonight I could steal you from the Gonerils and you could tell me more stories about Khalid's childhood."

He groaned. "Absolutely not. Kadija, as your king, I forbid it."

"You've put me in an impossible situation, Khalid. My queen demands one thing and you demand the opposite." Byleth laughed; the other woman winked. "Unlucky for you, I like your wife more than I like you."

That sigh was fake, exaggerated in its feeling. "If it is in service to the queen, I guess I can't argue."

"So it's decided, then. Hopefully you will still love the king after you hear about what a complete menace he was as a child."

"I was his professor once, so I have some idea."

"Byleth, please, my heart can't take it."


	21. Judith's Meddling Goes Awry

In all, Judith had to approve of the army's operations. The pace was steady, camp orderly, and the inclusion of Knights of Seiros into their ranks was near seamless. At least in this, the commanders who won the Dawn War had not lost their considerable talent to maintain order in a long march.

There was, however, a problem, one of the most delicate and pressing nature, and the Hero of Daphnel had never well suited to sensitive topics. She puzzled over the best course of action, and who might be best suited to the task. Not Gautier or the king, they were both too flippant. Edmund was too timid, and she would not even consider Hilda for the task. She had not enough of a measure of Rashad to determine him equal to the task. The Fraldarius boy was too much like Judith, same with Ordelia; too blunt and lacking in delicacy, all of them.

The day before they reached their destination, it became inevitable; she would have to bring her concerns to the queen. No one else would be capable for finding a solution to the problem that had nagged at Judith for the last week and a half. So as the troops began to set camp at midday, she went in search of the queen.

She found Khalid first, busy at work raising the tents. "The queen?"

He shrugged. "Attending her holy duties," he gestured vaguely to deeper in the camp. "Half the army's being kissed by Byleth while I'm stuck trying to drive stakes into solid rock."

"You knew she would have religious duties when you married her, boy. What's stuck in your craw about it now?"

A huff. " _I_ would like to kiss her from time to time. We haven't been able to talk for more than five minutes from sunup to sundown without an interruption."

Rashad laughed. "If I convert to the Fodlan faith, does that mean your wife would kiss me, as well?" He smirked. "The queen is very pretty, after all."

"If you ask for a blessing, Rashad, I will tie you to a horse and let it loose over the Endless Sands."

Judith moved on, chuckling as she heard Rashad and Khalid's continued bickering. It did not take long to find the queen, as she was surrounded by soldiers. They came, one by one, and Byleth spoke a few words to each and then kissed their forehead in benediction. She pushed through the crowd; some seemed wanted to object until they saw it was the Hero of Daphnel making her way through the crowd. "Your Majesty, there are matters that require your attention."

Byleth blessed another soldier, and then looked over the assembled crowd. "Apologies, all. Later," she said softly, but the voice carried, and a path cleared. Even as they walked through, Judith watched as the faithful reached out and touched Byleth's clothes and hands as she passed, and sighs of the petitioners followed them. Small wonder Khalid had been in such a fit about these particular duties of the queen.

The royal tent had been erected, the war chests of the king and queen waiting for them. Byleth's was a familiar sight, as it was the same one she used as a mercenary and later professor, an unadorned cedar box. It looked particularly shabby compared to Khalid's with its gold inlay, studded with gems, but it made a much more comfortable seat. Byleth settled onto the cot, her hands on her knees. "I have concerns about Holst. I think he might be becoming attached to Kadija."

Byleth let out a small chuckle. "This is your pressing matter, Judith? I thought you too old to be interested in the flirting among the other commanders." She tilted her head. "Please don't tell me you object to a Fodlan general marrying an Almyran."

"It's not that, I don't care if they bed or flirt or whatever they wish." She'd bedded Nader a handful of times, and knew about the king's origins well before his presentation as the Riegan heir. "But if he's distracted, it will be a problem."

The queen considered her words for a moment, and then stood. Tent thrown open, Judith watched her gesture to some unseen attendant. "Please find Lord Goneril and bring him here."

"Byleth, I didn't-" She stopped speaking when the queen held up a hand.

"I understand your concerns, Judith, but I think it best to ask Holst directly." She tilted her head and smiled. "They have spent a lot of time in each other's company, haven't they? It is very sweet."

She shook her head. "I know that the Alliance lords are not as formal as the other territories, Byleth, but if this is the case, it will not be easy to convince the old Duke Goneril to allow Holst to marry the daughter of Nader the Undefeated."

"Hrm. Well, if the duke wishes to object, he can bring those objections to me. I will support the match." She paused. "Though, I suppose we will need to know the traditional customs of Almyra, as well." She opened the tent again. "Find me the king, please."

Oh, Goddess. "My queen, I didn't meant to cause such a furor." Judith blushed; the last time she blushed it was on her wedding night.  


"Judith, the best way to handle this would be to handle it now, before it is really an issue." The tent flap opened, and Holst entered, assisted by Hilda. The queen moved to allow him space on the cot, settling herself on Khalid's chest. "Thank you. Hilda, some privacy please." She was gone with a nod.

"Your Majesty sent for me? And Judith?" He paused. "Is there an issue with the troops, or a flaw in our strategy?"

"No, nothing like that." Byleth laced her fingers together and considered him. "I'll be frank, Holst. Are you in love with Kadija?"

Never had Judith seen Holst stutter; his face started to flame, deeper pink than his hair. "Your Majesty, this is hardly, I mean, there's hardly been enough time for any of that to be." He stopped and cleared his throat, two deep breaths. "I think she is a wonderful traveling companion, and I've enjoyed talking to her. But we've only known each other two weeks, that's hardly enough time to consider love."

"I didn't ask what you think, Holst," Byleth said with a smile. "How do you feel about her?"

She had never seen anyone turn quite that shade of red before. If this were Judith being questioned, she would have wanted the earth to swallow her whole; to tell the truth, she felt like squirming just by virtue of watching this conversation. But then he straightened and cleared his throat again. "I like her very much, your Majesty. If she felt the same, and we knew each other better, I think I could find myself in love with her."

"My darling Fell Star, I'm here. You called for me?" The tent opened, and there was the king, his fingers at his collar working the buttons there. He paused in that task, looking at Judith and Holst in turns; as if this couldn't get any more awkward. "What's this?"

The queen smiled. "Khalid, Holst may have an interest in courting Kadija. How would be the best way to propose marriage, if his feelings become more serious?"

Never in her life would Judith have considered the possibility of seeing the boy speechless, but his mouth fell open and several moments passed and still no sound came out. And then he turned and walked out of the tent. Holst shifted, looking embarrassed, and Judith resolved to keep her mouth shut on others' personal lives. "Your Majesty, I-" Byleth shook her head, and he fell silent. 

A few minutes passed, and then they heard voices; Khalid and Kadija entered the tent. Holst, instead of blushing, began to pale. The king cleared his throat. "Kadija, Holst has interest in making you an offer of marriage. Would you consider filling your dowry chest for his consideration?"

Kadija didn't blush, but instead looked at Holst. Governor Goneril, the greatest general of his age, a man who fought whole armies of Almyrans since he was barely twenty, trembled as the woman considered him. "He's handsome enough, for a Fodlander. I've heard he's a master tactician, but I would like to see that talent for myself before I rely on hearsay, even if those comments were from my own father."

"I can't fight any longer, you know."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Can you have children?"

If Holst continued to vacillate between blushing and paling, Judith worried he would faint. "As far as I am aware, yes."

"Any children of the Goneril bloodline would be strong," she replied with a shrug. "Look at your sister, she's the laziest person I've met and yet she knocked Rashad flat the other day." The queen laughed, and Judith allowed herself a grin. "Win the siege and the war for our Majesties, and I will consider that payment for my dowry chest should you want it, Holst Goneril."

"Great, that's settled." The king rubbed his hands together with a smile. "Now, all of you, get out of my tent so the queen and I can have some privacy. I don't want to be disturbed even if Margrave Gautier is stabbed ten times."

Judith moved to help Holst, but Kadija was there first, and Holst's face softened as she helped him to his feet. "We have a lot to talk about, don't we?"

"Yes. My tent's not far from here." Another blush on Holst's face; Judith bit back a chuckle. They walked away with a quick farewell.

She did not make it far before she was accosted by Hilda and Marianne, and the former put a death grip on Judith's arm. "What was that about? First Byleth asks to speak to Holst, and then I see Khalid go into the tent with Kadija, and-"

"Yes, Hilda, I was there. Your brother and Kadija have both expressed interest in marriage."

" _Finally_." Hilda crowed. "I've been watching them make eyes at each other for two weeks, but Holst was convinced she wouldn't be interested. It was worse than watching the Gautiers dance around their courtship."

"That's not very nice, Hilda," Marianne said with a giggle. "Sylvain was so sweet to Dorothea."

"And Dorothea was so cruel to him. It was what he deserved, after all his philandering."

"Big words from you, Hil," Gautier's drawl came from the left, and he joined them on their traipse through the camp. "But Thea definitely made me work for it." He chuckled. "I love that woman all the more for it, too."

A squire approached, looking quite frazzled. "Lady Daphnel, apologies, but the king and queen-"

"Are taking a short rest and are not to be disturbed. What is it?"

"Ma'am, the fortress, it's not glowing." She looked east; how had she not noticed it before? How had none of them noticed?

Thank the Goddess for Sylvain Gautier. "Has the fortress been breached?" A hesitation told them all they needed to know; that had not been assessed. "We need to get scouts in the air and in the woods. Get the commanders together, we'll have to make do without their Majesties." He paused, thinking. "If the fortress has yet to be breached, then the best course of action is to keep on the same plan as before, and strike tomorrow. But we might be able to get some things in place before the next dawn. Where's Holst?"

Hilda giggled. "He and Kadija are, ahem, also resting."

Sylvain's eyebrows seemed lost in his hair, and then his lips curled into a rueful smile. "This is just penance for all my misadventures, I can just sense it."

"We can't strategize without her expertise," Hilda gloated.

He laughed. "Suddenly, I understand Ingrid's frustration with me for all those years. I'll have to stop at Castle Fraldarius on my way home to make my apologies." He turned and walked toward the tents, whistling tunelessly.

Judith, Marianne, and Hilda waited in the commander's tent as the others filtered in; Seteth and Alois were a mismatched pair with one grim-faced, the other affable as always. Lysithea and Felix next, holding hands as they entered the tent with Leonie and Rashad. A surprise a few minutes after them; the king and queen slipped into the tent, both out of their armor and instead in loose tunics. "How long has it been?"

"I looked when we first struck camp," Seteth replied. "It's very recent."

Byleth leaned over the map, her brow furrowed as she reviewed the pieces that had been set. "How many battalions of riders do you have, dear?" Four wyvern tokens were pulled from the box and set in the fortress to mark the king's forces at Khalid's reply. He reached and added a fifth token of archers. "They should be enough to hold the fort until morning, at least." An affirmative noise, and she sat back.  
At last the tent flap opened, and Gautier held the tent open for Kadija and Holst; at least Goneril had gotten his color under control, and began examining the map as soon as he sat down. "These are the forces we'll have from inside the fortress?"

"Those are the battalions with enough uninjured soldiers. There are others, and I'm sure we could cobble another couple battalions from the uninjured soldiers."

"More than a couple," Kadija replied and reached for the token box. She was deliberate in choosing tokens; four were chosen: two infantry, one wyvern, and one archer. "That strange Fodlan girl healed most of the soldiers before she fell asleep." Judith had to hide a smile as Kadija handed Goneril the tokens she had selected. "Well, Holst? Remember what is on the line."

He laughed, and considered the map. "How many men in all?"

"I had near four thousand strong. Wyvern battalions are about half the size of the others."

"I know. I could probably name your wyvern commanders faster than you could." He picked up the tokens already set, and began to rearrange.

Khalid chuckled. "I don't doubt that. I let Nader handle most of that organization."

They watched as Holst moved the pieces, his eyes intent as they darted from one corner of the map to the other. At last, he leaned back and made a gesture, a satisfied smile on his lips. "Your Majesty, do you approve?"

She nodded, once. "Well done, Governor Goneril." She glanced around the table. "Once night falls, we'll set scouts in the woods to watch overnight."

The king considered the map. "Kadija, once it's dark, you and Holst should get into position in the fortress. It would be easier to do that tonight rather than in the morning." She nodded.

"I'll go with them," Seteth said. "We will need to know more about Flayn's condition, but it is safe to assume she's been able to return to her human form."

"I'll scout," Felix said. "Someone needs to stay with Lysithea for the night."

She huffed. "I'm not a child, Felix. I can be alone for one night."

He scowled back. "Absolutely not. You have more fits in your sleep than you do awake."

"She can stay with me, if that's all right with you, Lysithea," Marianne murmured. A nod of assent; no one was immune to Margravine Edmund it seemed.

"Well, does anyone else have any other surprises they'd like to air out now? No? Great." Khalid stood and helped the queen to her feet. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have extremely pressing matters to discuss." And he pulled the queen out of the tent before any objections could be made.

Gautier chuckled. "Ah, young love."


	22. A Sword That Could Cleave Mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CT: some gory bits at the end, including the death of a wyvern. After the part with the Sword of the Creator, if you want to avoid that, skip the following two paragraphs.

There was no need for words the next morning. When Byleth woke, Khalid's eyes were already open, and he pulled her closer as she began to stir. She had lost count of the mornings they had shared like this, waking early before battle. During the Dawn War and funds were low, Byleth used her mercenary contacts to find work fighting monsters and bandits for coin, and at some point it became easier for her and Khalid to take up the work without the others. Somehow, they had fallen into sharing a tent, and then a cot, almost without thinking or discussion. With the army at their backs there was propriety to consider, so they kept up an appearance of friendly camaraderie and slept apart. But Khalid wasn't called the Clever for nothing.

It was hardly lovemaking with the quiet way she pulled him inside, their kisses slow and tender until they both felt the swell of release. It was more a way to settle their nerves than passion, but it was satisfying all the same for what it was. Once she felt him shudder, his back arching momentarily before he came back to earth, Byleth pulled away. They spent a moment more embraced, and then Khalid threw the blankets back and exposed them to the crisp mountain air. She sucked in a breath; Saints above it was cold.

They dressed each other, trousers and greaves first, then boots and padded undertunics laced tight with expert fingers. "What do you do when we're not together?" She asked, breaking the silence for the first time. 

He paused in his work buckling her cuirass, but only for a moment. "What I used to do before we started sneaking off to have a few minutes alone." His mouth found her neck, but only for a moment. "I infinitely prefer you over my hand."

She checked the straps on his chest guard. "I would hope so." He shrugged on his leather jacket, embroidered with lace at the front to conceal the fastenings. Straps on arm pieces tightened, he helped her into her coat.

Last, he handed her a jar of beeswax scented with sandalwood. She worked some onto her fingertips and combed her hands through his hair. The curls would never fully be tamed, but at least it was mostly out of his eyes. "I can never do this as well as you," Khalid murmured. "Thank you, dearest." He leaned over and picked up her diadem from the top of the traveling chest. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the gentle tickle of his fingers on her ears as he adjusted the piece in her hair. His hands moved from there to her face, and they shared a soft kiss. "My Fell Star." For a long moment, they drank in each other's quiet affection. Then he took her hand in his, and together they left the tent.

Felix had returned from scouting, and was talking quietly with Sylvain. "We've established Holst and Kadjia in the fortress," he said without any niceties. "Seteth went, too, but he's come back. Flayn is fine, but asleep."

"To be expected. We've enough healers in the Knights that it doesn't matter much," Khalid said, his eyes fixed on the fortress. "No one saw them enter, right?"

Felix shrugged. "Impossible. I was looking and barely spotted them."

"We all know Felix has the best eyes for that." Sylvain clapped him on the shoulder; Felix glared, but it was the kind of glare that only he could give, full of his strange sort of affection. He turned on his heel and stomped away, muttering to himself. A shrug from Gautier, and they smiled.

"I should go, too. They are my troops, after all." She felt a squeeze on her fingers, and then he kissed her knuckles before letting her hand fall. "I'll see you on the other side of this battle." She nodded, and they watched him go.

Suddenly, Sylvain sighed, looking wistful. "I have to say, I'm even more jealous of you than I was before. I miss Thea, and seeing the two of you together makes me miss her more."

"I'm sorry, Sylvain."

He shook his head. "Nah, I get it. I'm a noble, after all, and this is part of being a noble, isn't it?" The smile turned reflective. "I could never do what Felix did and leave. In my heart, I still believe in my duty, and I like my position in your service." A laugh. "And besides, we both know I'm too much of a glutton to wander the world with nothing but my wits to survive. I need a warm home and a wife and a liege to keep me in line."

On a whim, Byleth crossed the distance between them and took his face in her hands. On tiptoe, she kissed his forehead. "The Goddess blesses you, Margrave Gautier. May all your life be as you wish it to be."

Their eyes met as they separated, and his cheeks started to burn under her hands. He backed away a respectable distance and bowed deep. "Your Holiness, I thank you for your blessing."

It was quick work to rouse the soldiers; the rearguard would stay behind with the camp under Alois' care. She watched the unit form up in their battalions, pennants snapping in the wind. This was the part she disliked; Khalid was always better at rousing speeches before a fight. She cleared her throat. Her voice carried with the wind. "Four years ago, the Almyran king came to our aid. Now we've a chance to repay his favor. As some you may have noticed, their king is your king." There was some laughter along the ranks, and she allowed a small smile. "All I ask of you is to defend your king as you would defend me."

Sylvain crashed his lance against his shield, and a cheer rippled. "March!"

It was a good morning for a fight with clear skies and only a slight breeze that went east; that would favor the archers. They marched, the crunching of horse's hooves on the road and the slight whistle of the wind. Now and then, armor clanked when Sylvain shifted in his saddle.

The fortress loomed on the south side of their path, and they began to march under its shadow. When they came on some predetermined mark about halfway past the fortress, Judith pulled a horn from a pack and blew one long, deep note. Byleth watched the response from the fortress; five flights of wyverns launched and spread out as arranged, and she watched the first foray of battle. They would distract the rebel army until Byleth's army had reached the field. 

A flash of ivory and gold; Alemarmar screeched, wings beating as Khalid led the charge. She was almost left breathless at the sight of them streaking across the sky, Failnaught glowing in Khalid's hand as he drew back and fired. "He's gotten better at that," Sylvain noted with a nod. So he had, but she didn't like it. They pushed on.

At last, they came on the field, already burning. The rebel army had erected a barrier to protect themselves from an onslaught from the fortress; their north flank lay exposed. Sylvain beat his lance against his shield once more and with a cry, the cavalry charged. 

Byleth was never one to feel the blood beat in her ears during a fight; there was only that otherworldly calm that unnerved so many of her foes. Judith came to stand beside her, and together they watched the first crash of their mounted units against the disarrayed enemy ranks. "Your Majesty." She nodded and drew the Sword of the Creator. A flicker, and then it began to glow. _The Goddess retreats_ , Sothis whispered. With a cry, she broke into a run to meet the foe with the crack of the Sword as it loosened into a spiked whip at her unspoken command.

It was a short, brutal battle, their foes woefully underprepared for a ground assault. They cut through infantry and soon the field was a mass of dying soldiers, the blood and gore at their feet fast growing thick as they advanced. Half a dozen fell with each swing of her arm, guts spilling as she sheared armor as if were made of silk and not steel. Judith and Felix stood on either side of her, swords flashing as they defended the queen from anyone lucky enough to avoid her onslaught. Sylvain, reckless as ever, the Lance of Ruin in one hand slick with congealing blood as he barreled across the field, a kernel of magicked fire in his other, he almost didn't need the rest of the cavalry to cut a wide swathe. Explosions popped, usually in the general direction of Felix, and she recognized the particular finesse Lysithea brought to spellcraft.

Suddenly, there was a screech from above; Kadija streaked across the sky, intent on a retreating wyvern master near the edge of the field. She saw white as Khalid followed close behind. An arrow flickered as it was let loose by Failnaught, and there was a scream of agony, the wyvern flailing, tumbling earthward. The fighting stopped as everyone watched Kadija dive and slam against the falling wyvern. A struggle; she pulled at the wyvern rider until she was successful in yanking them out of the saddle and onto Qadir.

The enemy soldiers looked at one another, and then at some unspoken arrangement, threw down their weapons. Byleth hesitated before she cleared her throat. "Tie them up, and check the bodies for any wounded. We'll have Marianne and the others tend them." She looked west toward the fortress as the wyvern battalions landed. Holst was there at the fore, and with a gesture, she heard the mechanisms of the gate and portcullis to allow them inside. "Someone go back and inform the rearguard to break camp." A cheer went up at this, and she allowed herself a smile.

A glance down; the Sword's glow flickered, and died, looking dull and spent once again through the blackened blood. It as her only warning and she felt a rushing in her temple, that strange sick sensation of memory when Sothis dreamed. It was so hard and fast she felt it as if had been a physical blow; her head ached, and she found herself reeling. Judith shouted, but her ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton for all she heard and understood, and then she was falling, falling, _falling_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the gore, the enemy commander tried to escape and Kadija and Khalid stopped them.
> 
> My love for Sylvain could not be contained, sorry not sorry.


	23. A King's Resolve

Kadija didn't recognize the man she came to see. He looked like her king in body and face, but every expression and movement belied he had been replaced in his heart and soul. He had not even changed out of his armor and gear but instead sat on a hard chair outside the room Gautier and the mercenary Pinelli had carried the queen to. At least her Majesty had been caught before she fell and hit her head on the hard earth, but her body had been so limp when they carried her into the fortress, Kadija thought she had died. 

Elbows on his knees, his hands pressed together and touching his lips as if he prayed; did a man wed to a goddess need to pray? He didn't look at her as she approached, but a twitch of muscle in his cheek indicated he was, at least, conscious of her presence. She cleared her throat. "Khalid, Mumtaz is ready for you."

"She can wait." His voice was flat, tired. "I'm not leaving until I can see her."

"It's been all afternoon. They will tell you straightaway."

He shook his head, and then he laughed; it wasn't a happy noise. "I lost her once for five years, did you know? At the start of the Dawn War, she fell down a ravine and stayed there, sleeping."

She sighed and found another chair in the corridor and sat down across from him. "So she'll wake up again."

"When?" He shook his head again. "When she fell then Sothis put her to sleep to heal. She has no injuries now, so why." He didn't say it as a question, only continued to speak in the same flat tone.

She considered him. Rarely had she seen him afraid; fear was something his childhood tormenters exploited, and he always kept that and his other feelings carefully tucked away. But now he could hardly keep his lip from trembling. This was beyond fear; the man was terrified. "Khalid." He looked at her for the first time. "I don't doubt that the queen will find a way to wake up to see you again. She loves you."

"If only that were enough." The door opened, and the green haired man with the church stepped out of the room. "Well?"

He seemed unperturbed by the king's shortness. "The queen sleeps still. It's as we thought, something happened that made the goddess react. She's put their body to sleep to protect them and to heal."

"But she wasn't injured. I saw her, Seteth." The king's voice took on a ragged edge in his anger.

Seteth raised a hand and pushed the door open further. "Marianne can explain." It must have been a trick of the light; she could almost believe the man blushed. "If you'll excuse me, I need to check on Flayn."

Khalid stood and stepped inside. Kadija waited for a moment, and then followed. The healer stood on the other side of the bed, and she looked at the king with a surprising resolve in her eyes. "Be gentle, your Majesty. She's very deep asleep, and her body doesn't resist."

The queen lay on the bed with her mouth slightly open, eyes shut tight. At least her breath was even and there was ample color in her cheeks. They had changed her out of her armor and into a loose shirt with a blanket pulled up to her waist, her pale green hair spread over the pillows artlessly. He took her hand in his. "She's warm enough, it seems."

"Her blood still flows, strong as ever." Marianne smiled. "Still no heartbeat, though."

Khalid chuckled, even if it was weak. "We should all worry if the Fell Star's heart begins to pound." He reached and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, his other hand still clinging to hers. "What happened?"

"We, ah, we have a hypothesis," the healer began to stutter and blush, and she glanced at Kadija. "It is a delicate issue."

_Ah_. She hid a smile before the king could see it when he turned to look. "Kadija is my oldest friend, of course she can stay." Not that it mattered, she was sure she knew already, if Marianne's sly blush could be any indication.

The healer was quite pretty with her face aflame, and she continued with that same stuttering. "You remember how the queen fell ill a few days ago with that headache?" He nodded, features softening as he looked at his sleeping wife. "Well, Seteth believes that the melding of Byleth and Sothis' consciousness is not quite as complete as it could be."

"We already knew that. They're still separate beings for now."

Marianne nodded. "Byleth was able to activate the Sword of the Creator. Somehow, Sothis was able to separate them enough that her body was no longer this body but the Sword, as it is made from the bones of her previous body. But she couldn't hold it forever, and when she lost control, she was snapped into back into this body quite violently." She paused, her flush deepening. "In her panic, Sothis thought this form was injured when she came back. She did what she thought would be best to protect them."

"But she wasn't hurt, that's what I don't understand. Felix and Judith were there the whole time, no one got near the queen." His jaw clenched, face in agony. It was only concern for their long friendship that kept Kadija from laughing out loud. "I watched her, Marianne. I always watch."

"I, um, well, your Majesty," she cleared her throat, and her voice strengthened, "we think that she's with child, and the goddess doesn't understand those feelings quite yet."

The ripple of emotions over his face was a sight to see; rarely had he ever allowed such naked expression, but in such a short time she saw shock, disbelief, and then finally, a soft expression of pure joy suffused Khalid's face. His eyes watched his wife, and he reached to touch her face again. "Are you certain, Marianne?" His voice was a silken whisper that could barely be heard.

"Seteth seems to think that is the most likely reason. After all, the goddess' children were born from her blood and not from her body, so it would be a foreign sensation to her, and if she was panicked from the shock of being forced back into the body, it's possible she didn't consider she wasn't in danger."

His hand moved down until it rested flat on the queen's stomach. "She can't possibly sleep the entire time she's pregnant, can she? She would need to eat and drink and-"

Kadija cleared her throat. "You did say she slept for five years once."

Khalid looked at her, and then back to his wife. He seemed to be shaking off his torpor, and bent over to kiss her. "Marianne, I have things to attend to, but after I want to have a discussion with you and Hilda." She nodded, even as she blushed again. Once last glance at Kadija. "I'm going to change, and then we're going to have a nice long talk with our most precious prisoner."

She waited on a chaise while he dressed behind a screen; the sky east was dark now, a great blue black bruise against the mountain outline. He spoke, his voice back to its usually lackadaisical teasing. "Thank you for catching Mumtaz, by the by. I almost missed her sneaking off in the middle of the fight."

"Thank Holst, he was the one that spotted her first. We weren't completely sure what was happening in the beginning, which is why she almost got away." Baba would have haunted the rest of her days if she hadn't been able to catch the traitor.

He chuckled; she appreciated that he sounded more like his usual self than the broken man she'd met in the corridor. "Does this mean that he's earned your dowry chest?"

She laughed. "It was his the moment he asked to pay respects to my father. I only said it because you said it was unlike Judith to engage in such frivolities. I knew she was concerned he was distracted."

"It's not like you to fall in love so quickly. Do you remember that one time-"

She groaned. "Do you have to bring that up again? I was thirteen."

"And yet, you still knocked a grown man, my father's own personal guard no less, out cold in under a minute." He stepped out from behind the screen, and it was all Kadija could do not to stare; she had never seen him in Fodlander dress with fitted pants and jacket, and again she found herself looking at a stranger who took the place of her king. "Is there something on my face?" He rubbed at his cheek in an exaggerated manner.

A laugh, and she shook her head. "It's like witnessing Qadir doing a jig. Where did you even get that outfit?"

He shrugged as he made his way to the vanity table. "I had it made a couple years ago when I thought I could sneak a visit to Derdriu."

He splashed water on his face and examined himself in the mirror. Fingers combed his hair to put it back into some semblance of order. There was a ring on his left hand, different than his usual trinkets; how long had he kept that hidden from the world, she wondered idly. "Presentable enough."

The corridors were quiet; she was sure in the great hall there was some revelry underway, subdued as it might be while they waited for news of the queen's condition. "So, what's with the outfit? You obviously have a plan."

It felt good to see him smile that way, all teeth and no artifice to it. "The queen said something to me when we were at the Locket and I'm simply taking my beloved's advice on a certain matter."

"Keeping secrets again."

"Always." They entered the conference room without knocking. Daphel, Holst, and Rashad looked up from their conversation when they entered; the prisoner made a point of turning her head away. "She's still bound, good."

"The queen?" Daphnel's sounded hopeful.

He shook his head. "Sleeping, but unharmed. Seteth and Marianne are confident she will recover." He sat down, hands folded over each other as he watched the prisoner. Kadija settled beside Holst, hiding a smile when his hand found hers under the table. "Hello, Auntie Mumtaz. You're looking well, considering."

She huffed and gave him a hard stare. "You're even dressed like one of them now, so I guess you really are one of her lapdogs."  
A low chuckle; there was danger in that voice. "My mother was from Fodlan, so why shouldn't I wear their fashion? It does have some benefits in a colder climate, don't you think, Governor Goneril?"

"I would have to spend a year in Almyra to judge which style is preferable, my king." He squeezed her hand under the table; clearly Khalid had some competition for the cleverest in the room today.

"His king?" Another huff; Mumtaz couldn't see the danger in Khalid's smile, as if the outburst was playing right into his trap. But she didn't know him the way Kadija did, and hadn't seen that smile every time he plotted revenge against his childhood tormenters. But the woman wasn't completely blind, and her eyes settled on his hand where silver and gems glittered. "You would marry to get her aid? That's low, even for a Fodlander."

A glance down at his hand, and then he looked back up at Mumtaz. "You misunderstand. When I came to Almyra to take my father's place, I was already the King Consort in Fodlan, and I took the throne she became your queen." He leaned back and tapped the table. "Do you see now, Mumtaz? This isn't up for debate, and I wasn't going to be swayed by any amount of advice by the privy council. When you tried to sneak behind my back to raise a navy and sail to Derdriu, you pointed your axe at your own king."

Her mouth twitched; Mumtaz had always been stubborn and set in her ways. "You can always set her aside and marry someone else. A proper Almyran wife, and proper Almyran children."

He shook his head. "It's too late for that."

"What?" Judith sighed. "Boy, you can't just say things like that as if you were ordering dinner."

This smile was genuine, and Judith glared at him for it. "If it makes you feel better, you know the queen's pregnant before she does."

Rashad laughed. "Well, Mumtaz? Think you can bend to another Fodlan queen? Pretty sure our pretty queen could put her knee on your neck as easy as the last one."

Mumtaz continued to glare at Khalid. "Everyone assumed you weren't coming back. You weren't supposed to come back."

She couldn't help it; Kadija snorted. "No, _you_ assumed that. I knew he'd come home eventually, and so did the king and queen. He didn't renounce the crown when he left, after all." Kadija leaned forward and jabbed a finger at the woman. "You never stopped your sons from tormenting him, throwing things at him, calling him a green eyed devil. Oh, how you gloated when he ran away, thinking the King would pick one of your sons to replace his own. You might pretend to forget, but I won't." Mumtaz said nothing, only looked away.

"I suppose in that way, we ought to thank Auntie for that, because if she had stopped them, I wouldn't have run away, and none of this would have happened." Khalid laughed, rubbing his jaw. "Here's what will happen. Mumtaz will come back with me to Najafa and we'll find a comfortable cell for her to stay until my wife wakes up. I think Byleth should be the one to make the decision of your fate, since your objections seem to lie with her." He grinned. "I would start praying to the Fodlan goddess to wake the queen quickly if I were you, Mumtaz. The prisons in Najafa are unpleasant, I've heard." With a gesture, attendants came forward and pulled her to her feet.It was quiet in the room after the prisoner was led away. Khalid still looked thoughtful with a hand on his chin. "Judith."

"Boy."

"I'm taking Byleth to Najafa with me. If you have objections, state them now." He tapped the table. "I won't be persuaded, even if you object."

She leaned back, arms folded over her chest. "For how long?"

He turned to look at Daphnel's stony face. "Until she wakes, at least. She will wake, but not even Seteth could guess when that will be." He glanced at Holst. "I hope to take Marianne and Hilda with me to help."

A nod. "The governors can keep Fodlan intact while she's gone," Holst commented. "Aegir and I work well together, and Molinaro is a reasonable man."

Judith sighed. "It is probably for the best, to keep her condition a secret. No need to cause unnecessary panic. We'll send reports to you on the most important matters."

"Great, that's settled. I suppose I ought to make an appearance at the feast." He stood up, tugging at his collar. "Saints, these clothes are uncomfortable. How does anyone wear this all day?" Before anyone could answer, he was out the door.

Holst chuckled, and glanced at Judith. "It seems we're back to dealing with Claude von Riegan."

The Hero of Daphnel laughed with him, even if she looked rueful. "At least this time we don't have to deal with him doing a two step with Gloucester at every conference. Aegir and Molinaro are much more reasonable." She stood as well and left the room.

Rashad looked at them with a grin, and Kadija shook her head. "Just go, your commentary isn't necessary. Don't let the commanders drink my entire cellar dry, please." He laughed, and he, too, left. They were alone. Holst shifted, and they turned to face each other. Ah, how could one man's smile undo her so? "Duke Goneril."

"I thought we agreed that formality wasn't necessary." He still had her hand in his, and reached for her other hand. "Kadija."

She cleared her throat. "A formal offer requires formal language." She gestured. "I have an offer for you. All this in exchange of marriage. We control both territories together, much the same way Khalid and Byleth wish to do. Separate, but allied."

"I accept," he replied with a smile. "You'd be the one to go to any meetings beyond our borders, you know."

"And you'll be burdened with all the boring domestic issues that come about while I'm gone." He laughed at that, and she smiled; he was handsome like this, Fodlander or no. "So that's settled."

He nodded, and then she felt a surge of surprise as he pulled her into his lap. She blushed; they had shared some intimate moments the night before, but this was still a strange thing to her. "This may be overstepping, but you seemed quite angry at Mumtaz, and not just for the king's sake. Is it your father?" A small nod, and she allowed him to guide her head to his shoulder. Her eyes closed almost without thought, a sudden feeling of exhaustion taking hold. They sat like that for a long time.


	24. The Mad King of Almyra

Perhaps the whispers were right and he was going a little mad. Khalid woke as he always did, the bright Almyran morning painful in his eyes as the servants opened curtains. Two weeks they had been back at the palace; a simple thing to take Najafa back, all it took was Kadija with a knife at Mumtaz's throat, threatening to spill her life all over the Endless Sands and the token force the rebels had left behind surrendered with haste. They had not ruined too much of the city; the palace in particular had been left untouched. Even the king's apartments had suffered little abuse; perhaps they were afraid of any tricks he may have left before their flight. Prudent of them.

He yawned, and looked down at Byleth. Eyes closed, her breathing heavy and even. He usually enjoyed how she looked in sleep with parted lips and fluttering eyelashes as she dreamed, but he was honestly sick of it at this point. Still warm in his arms, though, that was the important thing. He kissed her ear and her neck, uncaring about what the servants saw. "Good morning, my star." Marianne said it was unlikely she could hear or understand anything he said, but he liked to talk just in case.

A robe was held out, and he slipped off the bed and allowed it to be pulled over his sleeping clothes. He tied it around his waist and moved to the breakfast table. Coffee from Dagda, a delicate bowl of pomegranate pips, mint and cucumber yogurt with bread to dip, and fried sausages. His letters waited beside his plate as well. "Thank you," he said, and at that signal, they faded away through doors both official and hidden. Every palace worth its name ought to have at least two ways in and out of the royal apartments; there were four in these rooms. "There's a letter from Judith, dearest," he commented as he set it aside. "I'll read it to you when breakfast is over." Rashad and Alai both wrote with the good news that they had settled the eastern lords back to their territories with promises to keep their rebellious selves out of trouble from now on.

There were personal letters for her as well; Bernadetta, Dedue, Ferdinand. These he set aside to be put away for safekeeping; they all knew not to expect answers any time soon. _If_ _ever_. No, he didn't want to think like that. She would have to wake, hopefully soon. Until then, he would sort her mail and send Judith answers to the most serious issues regarding his wife's territory.

The last letter caught his eye; he recognized Seteth's archaic hand and it was addressed to him. He cracked the seal and scanned it; a long letter, but the only thing of real importance was that Flayn had woken up. "Come spring, if Byleth has not woken, we will pay you a visit. Of all of us, Flayn has the most experience with these long sleeps, and has some ideas as to how to wake the queen." There was an idea, even if the idea of his wife sleeping through the winter was enough to make his knees weak.

Breakfast done, he took her letters to his desk and tapped out the secret pattern required to open the hidden drawer. A stack of letters from her on one side, her unread mail on the other. He picked up the latter and loosened the twine tie to add the new correspondence to the stack. Then he picked up the letter from Rhea, the seal still unbroken. It tempted him to open it in hopes that Rhea had answers for him, but his rational mind knew it to be impossible. If he read it now and found it lacking, he might truly lose himself. With a sigh, he put it away, her unread letters covering it.

He came back to the bed and propped himself against the headboard beside her; he could feel the sigh of her breath against his robed thigh. The wax cracked, he unfolded the letter and began to read out loud. "King Khalid," he read. Judith's hand was strong, with thick and decisive pen strokes. "Boy, do you not read? I've told you we've got things in hand, and I will let you know if there's anything that requires your meddling. The most important thing you can do for Fodlan is to keep the queen safe until she wakes up. If I hear from Holst that you've sent him another letter with 'helpful suggestions' regarding the Gloucester boy, I'm going to come to Najafa myself to beat some sense into you.

"Speaking of Gloucester, he's returned from Brigid. It was all smoke and no fire from Dagda. Perhaps they thought it could become something more before we showed our support." He caressed Byleth's hair. "All is well with Petra, thanks to you." He found his place in the letter again. "Molinaro sends word that all is well in those territories, and all your vassals in Faerghus are settled for the winter. No area is wanting for food at this time, and with the holiday season starting in Enbarr, it is unlikely Aegir will have any sort of issues in the south until spring. You know winter is a quiet time in Fodlan.

"Send us word as soon as the queen wakes. She is missed in Derdriu.

"Regards, Judith von Daphnel."

He lay down beside her, the letter set somewhere in the blankets. "Do you hear that, my dearest?" He touched her cheek; so pliant and warm, it was hard to imagine this woman could fell whole companies of men on her own. "You are missed. People depend on you." He kissed her forehead and pulled her close. "I miss you so much everyone says I'm going crazy. Can you believe it, me, losing my reason?"  


A knock came at the door, and he sat up regretfully, fixing his robe. "Enter."

Hilda poked her head in, then she and Marianne entered. They had taken to Almyran clothes and both wore bright colorful skirts and billowing tops; Marianne liked to veil her hair, as well. Hilda carried a small box, but he refused to let his curiosity get the better of him. "You're still not dressed? Don't you have court or whatever?"

He shrugged. "I'm the king, they can wait for me." But he slid off the bed all the same. "You're usually not here until later." Marianne came around to the bed to examine the queen. A small bowl filled with warm lavender water set on the side table, the healer dipped a cloth and began to dab at Byleth's open lips. It wasn't necessary; no matter what they did, she remained unchanged.

She held up the box. "I have it. It's finished." He took the box from her and sat down at the dressing table. Inside was a crown of yellow gold, so delicately wrought he was afraid it would break as he lifted it from its velveted confines. The Dragon's Eye was set in the center, surrounded by expertly set rubies and diamonds. "I wanted it to look like a rising sun, even if it is an emerald." 

"It's perfect." Crescent moons flanked the gems, and he ran his fingers over the work. "This is why you asked to see my crest."

She shrugged. "I figured I had to put something of you in it, since she's your queen and all."

Back into the box, he shut the lid. "Thank you. Have you decided on your price?" He really ought to get dressed for the day, and stepped behind his folding screens. The servants had already laid out his clothes for the day, and he glanced at his beard before he began to change; more than once he had dressed only to find that his hair had gotten a little too unkempt, and there was nothing worse than having to undress just for a trim.

He heard her stretch. "You've gotten my brother settled and engaged at last, so that's all the payment I need. How he went so long without getting snatched up when he has a Major Crest I'll never know."

"Well, that was more Kadija's doing than mine, but I'll take credit if you're willing to give it." He dressed quickly, and moved again to the dressing table to finish the pomp and circumstance required of a king. The women had moved to a sofa, and held hands as they sat close; it had been a simple thing to convince the palace populace at large that it was a common gesture between Fodlan noble women.

"Speaking of her, she is such a dear. She showed me some of her jewelry so the crown wouldn't look completely Fodlan." Hilda looked at Marianne with a smile. "I think we should visit that jeweler from last week and make him an offer. It could become quite the trend at home if the queen starts wearing Almyran style jewelry."

"Kadija's jewelry is beautiful." Marianne smiled. "I'm surprised at how much she likes dressing up."

He smiled at himself in the mirror, fingers busy working on rings. "Nader did have excellent taste when it came to that, though you wouldn't know it from looking or talking to him." Even when they were children, it was rare that Nader came home from a campaign without some little bauble for his wife and later, his eldest child. He looked well enough, and stood. "I'll see you this afternoon?" They nodded; he always came back for a midday nap when it became too hot to work.

He came back to the bed and sat on the edge. This was the worst part of his day; he felt every twist of terror at leaving her, defenseless in this state. Thank the Saints for Hilda. She didn't stir as he bent to kiss her temple. "Is it selfish to want you to wake when I'm here, my star?" He spoke softly so only she could hear. "I will be happy whenever you decide to wake, of course, but I want to be the face you see when you wake this time." He kissed her again, enjoying the faint scent of lavender. If only he could stay, but the world still turned, so he stood up, put on his soft palace shoes, and left the apartment.

It was a funny thing; he assumed that marrying the vessel for the goddess of Fodlan would further weaken his standing at court. King or no, there would always be suspicion of him and his ties to their western neighbor; it was that uphill battle that made him shed Khalid for some time and become Claude von Riegan, after all. But marrying a goddess on earth lent him an air of mystery and awe that he was more than willing to exploit. "The king is so strong he seduced a deity," said the whispers. "Of course he's a little mad, you'd have to be in order to be willing to marry a goddess." "Have you heard she doesn't eat or drink, only sleeps? The servants all say the Fodlanders told them she once slept for five years." "There's a Fodlan girl with those same eyes that turned into a dragon. If we anger the queen, she'll turn into a dragon and gobble us all up."

He let them believe what they liked; if it meant he could worry less about someone trying to plot against him, so much the better. His castellan Bahman waited at the door, and together they began to walk through the palace. Close behind followed his personal guard. "You have a meeting with the Minister of the Treasury, and then a meeting with the Foreign Affairs minister. After that, the high priestess requested an audience."

"What for? We gave the church ample funding this last year, haven't we?" He made it a point to attend services, to allay any fears that he would convert them all to the Seiros faith. If only they knew that the progenitor god hardly had an interest in the church built in her name.  
"Ah, I guess that there have been questions by the laypeople if icons for the Saints and the Goddess Sothis could be included in our temples so they can pray to their queen."

How he wished she were awake; he could just picture Byleth's face when he told her. He clapped his hands together. "Send word that I will gladly take an audience with her Holiness this evening after my retirement for the day. She might have an interest in seeing the goddess herself."

It would, at least, be a more interesting meeting than this, he thought as the Treasury Minister droned on about the cost of the war. Fief taxes were down, but they would hope to have something from the east now that the last of the rebellion's fires had burnt out. "We need more wyverns anyway, so let the stablemasters know to select three pairs to mate, and we can sell them to vassals for some additional gold." Perhaps he'd even breed Alemarmar. In fact, a flight of albino wyverns would be a suitable wedding gift for Holst and Kadija.

The meeting with the Foreign Minister was even worse; the man seemed utter incapable of grasping that Khalid knew more about Fodlan's politics than him. Before the war, these meetings had been tedious, but now that this man felt pressure to justify his continued service to the king, they should have been classified as torture. When the winter thawed, he would bring Judith here to train spies properly. As such, he knew more than the minister but still sat and listened to his labored explanations of western politics with a smile frozen to his face. Khalid reminded himself to schedule these meetings for the afternoons and not directly before the midday rest.

At last, he was free, and his clipped pace through the halls back to his apartments prevented the chance of anyone stopping him. They were where he had left them; Marianne was reading while Hilda braided her hair for her, and Byleth's form lay still on the bed. With short sentences of greeting and parting, they left for their own rooms as he removed his shoes. Clothes thrown over a chair to wait for him for his afternoon engagements. "I'm here, dearest," he murmured as he slid into bed. He buried his face in her neck; she smelled even more strongly of lavender, and her hair was slightly damp. "They gave you a bath, that was thoughtful." He had tried to do it himself, but the thought of so absolutely helpless in her nakedness made him retch. Marianne and Hilda seeing her in that state he could tolerate, but only just.

"I have something great to tell you when you wake. I want to see your face when you hear it." He kissed the nape of her neck. "I hope you sleep better when I'm here." She was so warm. Khalid curled his body around hers and put his arms across her waist. Eyes closed, he focused on the feel of her breathing against his chest; a soothing rhythm that never failed to settle him into a quick sleep.


	25. By the Grace of the Goddess

She heard a sigh, petulant and long. It had been so long since she had last heard anything, it took her a moment to recognize the noise. "That fool is a tenacious one, I'll give him that," the voice was muffled, and so familiar. "Ugh, how I hate this feeling, but I suppose we really can't stay like this forever. And I did promise."

There was a faint flickering light; a stone chair, empty. Oh, the voice was inside her head, the distortion due to her sluggishness after sleeping for so long. "You want to see him again, don't you?" Him; she saw flashes of dark curls, green eyes, lovely smooth skin. Lips that curled as she looked at him; no, he wouldn't be like that right now, he only smiled like that when they were alone. He wouldn't have the inclination for it now, but she was at a loss to explain why. "I have to say, I would prefer we not get in this condition again. The way these mortal bodies create new life is most unpleasant. If we were in my old body, I would much prefer that way." Another sigh. "I never asked to be put into a body. Once conversation with my Rhea and she thinks she can speak for me for the rest of time."

Her thoughts traveled down to behind her navel at the voice's guidance. Odd; so this is what a heartbeat felt like. So small and frail, unlike the beating of his heart when she pressed an ear against his body to listen. "Again, a promise is a promise. Unless you would rather stay asleep? After all, you won the war. This could be a good end to your life. I could take over from now, if you wanted to rest."

Rest. Somewhere high above them, she felt it, the deep torpor of the body they shared. It was tempting to stay here and sleep, never to return to the rushing world of mortal life. But the memory of that smile came back to her, the one that was just a little too perfect to be real. "I think I still have things to do," she said at last, her tongue too thick for her mouth.

"You think, or you know?" There was no pity in that voice. "It will be painful, and we cannot resist forever."

"I don't want to leave him like this. I can't."

"Very well, I will retreat as best I can for now. But the next time, we will not be so lucky, I think." The light brightened, and she felt the swell of sensation as they began to surface. No, just her.

Byleth woke. Ah Goddess, how she ached. A foreign room and a foreign bed. It was daytime where ever she was, and the sunlight poured in through the wide windows and made the polished tile gleam like jewels. There was a breeze, and she could smell the heat of the day on that wind, dryer than anything she had felt in Fodlan.

Second, she became aware of the arms crossing her waist and chest, clinging tight. She knew those hands and struggled to shake off the last of the fog clouding her thoughts. "Claude?" That was both right and somehow still felt wrong.

He stirred slightly against her; they were both struggling against the sweet promise of rest, and it almost made her laugh. She tried again. "Khalid." Yes, that was better, and it came out stronger than the last.

The tensing of his muscles told her he had surfaced, alert, _aware_. "Byleth?" She let him turn her over so they could face each other. "Please show me it's you." She kissed his mouth; a hesitation, and then his arms tightened around her as he kissed her back, clumsy and desperate. Then he pulled away; she went to chase him, but he put a finger on her lips. "You need to eat." She kissed his fingertip, only to be rewarded with a lopsided smile. "Trust me."

"You ask for a lot," she replied as he slid off the bed and walked to the door in nothing but a long sleeping tunic. It opened, and she heard him rattling commands in sharp Almyran, hands gesturing for haste. She rolled over to lay on her back, and her hands found her stomach. "How long?"

"Three weeks and four days. I can give you the minutes as well if you like. Not that I was counting or anything." She stared up at the canopy of the bed, amused by the fluttering of the sheer silk bed curtains. He was moving around, and she heard the sounds of water. "You're in Najafa, by the way. Thankfully I didn't have to fight Judith to agree to it."

"She still scares you, I see." He returned to the bed and helped her sit upright. She took the offered glass of water and drank, careless about the stream running down her chin. "Help me stand."

With her bodily needs cared for and a robe tied tight around her, it felt good to stand, even to sit as the servants brought in platters of food, fruits and soft pastries covered in nuts and sugar, cold cuts of meat and bread and about five different things to dip. "This is enough food for a small party," she teased him as they sat down.

"You need options. Anything you'd like to eat will be fetched. If you had a yearning for Dedue's cooking, I'm sure we could arrange something." His teeth flashed white as he grinned. "Though I would be loathe to let anyone else see you right now."

They ate; amazing how little she had understood her hunger until she took the first bite. He pushed her to try everything, going so far as to feed her by hand. Her body didn't even recoil to the smoked sausages; a surprise as that had been one of the first things to disagree with her palate. "We'll eat the rest later, it will keep," he said when she at last felt sated; really, the only thing left were some whole fruits and half a plate of pastries. "I haven't been eating much myself, to be honest."

Byleth watched him in a lazy way; his shirt lay open at the collar, exposing his neck and a shoulder. He did look a bit thinner than she remembered, but the difference was slight. "I have something important to tell you."

"You're pregnant." She blinked, and he grinned, clearly pleased to have caught her off guard. "Seteth's hypothesis was that Sothis didn't understand the sensation and so she thought you were in danger."

She laughed. "He's not wrong, she detests it. She asked that this be the only child." She watched him, considering. "I would rather it not, if that's all right with you."

He stood up and, with a measured deliberateness to his movements, picked her up into his arms. She gasped in her surprise; rarely did he ever act with this kind of forcefulness, but didn't resist as she was carried to bed. He was over her almost before she herself was fully settled, his breath hot on her neck. "I hate to disappoint a goddess-"

"Liar." Fingers in his hair; he needed to be much more mussed than he was.

She felt his chuckle against her collarbone. "But if it means you can stay, I want a dozen children. So many we run out of names for them. We can fill these halls with Jeralts and Naders and Sitris." His mouth was sloppy, trailing needy kisses over her skin. A moan escaped her. "And the halls of the Riegan Palace."

Her fingers found the hem of his shirt, and he helped her pull it off over his head. She trailed down, slow and deliberate to enjoy the way his eyes fluttered shut and his breath trembled as she teased him. "We can compete with the Gautiers."

He laughed. "That's hardly fair, they've got a head start."

She tilted her head. "It's not like you to back down from a challenge just because you're at a disadvantage." Another laugh, and then she watched him move lower, still kissing through her clothes. "Oh, _Khalid_." Fingers found his hair again, and she let herself fade into the pleasure as his mouth closed around her.

The sun was nearly set by the time they had the will to move from the bed, and even then, it was only to put on robes while supper was ordered and brought into the room. Khalid insisted it be brought to the bed, and she was too tired to protest. "You're going to have to teach me Almyran," she commented as they ate, thinking of his rapid commands at some unseen attendants outside of the room.

His eyes shone; how could he still feel so affectionate? "We'll have you speaking like a native in no time." He laughed. "Should we leave it a secret? How many things could you overhear if everyone thought you were deaf to their muttering."

"You always have to make everything a trick for your sleeve, my moon and sun."

He shrugged in an attempt to look nonchalant, but every feature softened. "The only people I could trust growing up were my parents, Nader, and Kadija. Living like that makes everyone looks like an enemy and everything looks like a weapon." There was no self pity in that voice, only the blunt truth; he was all the more handsome for his honesty. A curious look crossed his face, and he cleaned his fingers and mouth before slipping off the bed. She watched him in the flickering lantern light walk across the room to his desk. A familiar motion as he reached under a drawer and tapped out a pattern. He pulled out a stack of letters tied in twine and came back to bed. "These are yours." On top lay the letter from Rhea, separate from the others. She looked at him; he was strangely without emotion as he picked up another rib of lamb and bit.

She picked up the letter. The Crest of Seiros, still unblemished, mocked her. _She thinks she can speak for me_. Slowly, Byleth slid off the bed with the letter in her hand, and walked to the hearth. "Unless you object." She gestured to toss the letter in the flickering fire.

"It's yours to do with that you will."

"You, turning down information? What have you done with my Khalid?"'

She raised whole armies because of that laugh alone, and would do it again. "I don't think there's a shred of truth in that letter, to be honest." He slipped off the bed again and came to stand behind her, arms tight around her waist. She could smell sandalwood from his hair and the heady musk of their lovemaking lingering on his skin. Some day, hopefully years from now, she would fade and Sothis would take over her body that had been made into a vessel; any other details were just frivolous and painful. She was the goddess now, and could make the world into whatever image she wished. 

With an almost careless gesture, she tossed the letter into the fire. Her hands found his, their fingers tangling together as they watched the pages blacken and curl around the melting wax until the Crest of Seiros had disappeared, the wax dripping and sizzling on the flames.


End file.
